A Wonderful Lie
by Short on words
Summary: Two desks in one four-wall office and a mountain of memories in between. Together they shared the romance of a lifetime and the kind of heartache one does not forget. Now Damon's forced to guide the girl he once loved through her first months in the company. Will sparks fly ever again?
1. You give love a bad name

Two trembling hands clasped the firm mahogany headboard of a newly made bed. Damon Salvatore. _Damon_ Salvatore. Elena still couldn't wrap her head around the fact that the job she had just accepted included her dashing and ever-confident, yet truly mesmerizing ex-boyfriend.

He was the guy she used to dream about, used to write about, used to kiss, used to crave… The guy whose heart she'd broken. _The guy who'd get her fired the minute he'd realize she was the girl they had hired as his trainee._

Her knuckles were turning white and bit by bit she tried to loosen her grip again, to let go. _Breathe_. She had been trying for ten years now: to let it go, but there was no lettering go. There was no forgetting _him_. Damon Salvatore. _Damon_ Salvatore. '_Forever and always, til kingdom come'_. Oh how little those words had truly meant once she had passed the tender age of fifteen.

And now here she was, in an elegant yet compact one-bedroom apartment in the middle of the city. Graduated. Intelligent. Beautiful. Likable. She was an accomplished young woman in all ways that mattered. Her parents were proud. Proud of her business degree, proud of her living alone, proud of the life she had created for herself and at times she was too. _Proud_.

It was a good feeling, a feeling that made it all worth it. All the late nights, the isolation, _the secret collection of used tissues clogging up the last drawer of her nightstand_.

Yet whenever her eyes would take in the four champagne colored walls that made up her safe haven, she couldn't seem to get passed the large and prominent mirror, lining the back of her bedroom door.

At times all she did was stare. Stare at her own reflection. Stare far ahead into the distance. _The past. The future_. Because this was it. These were the days she'd been dreaming about when she was in high school. When she and her friends had been so very convinced that _the best had yet to come_. This was _that best part_, this was supposed to be _the time of her life_…

Still, somewhere along the way, her heart had stopped skipping a beat. The radiant and fearless girl Damon had managed to unleash was no more, for Damon had been the one who had told her all those years ago that she couldn't just wait the days out. _She had to live instead of simply being alive_. But now Damon was no longer lurking in the shadows to remind her of his views on 'living'.

Furthermore, she hadn't taken his advice to heart, not irrevocably, not ever since she had walked away. Instead, she had spend her days doing what she was told, what was expected of her… Eventually it had landed her in a wonderful apartment. _All alone_ in her wonderful apartment, though. With a void. A pit in her stomach.

She was twenty-four now. Her friends were starting to settle down, to have kids, to built a life. And that part of life was still completely missing for Elena. She was nobody's Mom, no one's true love… Some days that realization had the power to unhinge her. It would start with a small thought in the back of her mind, but spread out beneath her skin like wildfire, right until her insecurities got the best of her, swallowing her whole. _What if I'm never falling in love again, what if I won't ever crave or long or tremble with passion?_

_Happy thoughts Elena_, she urged herself, dragging her eyes away from the mirror. _More positive thinking, more joy_. The apartment was beautiful, so was the furniture, the view... It all radiated class and accomplishment. She should be happy. _She ought to be happy_. So with a bright new Colgate smile, plastered slightly forced upon her face, she straightened her skirt and the rest of her attire. She was in control again, ready to face the music.

_She was ready_. She would dazzle them. They would be impressed by her capability. Because who was she kidding? She _was_ an accomplished young woman. She _was_ strong, beautiful and intelligent. Those honors on her picture perfect resume, didn't get handed to just anyone. So that wistful and insecure part of her had to be pushed aside, locked up in the bottom drawer of her nightstand.

Some more lip gloss, a hint of mascara. Smile. _Colgate smile_. Yes. _Perfect_. Ready to face the music. Ready to face _Damon_ Salvatore.

**xXx**

Ten years earlier

A tan and slender body rose from the water. Elena instantly got goose bumps as the cold air tantalized her skin. She started to tremble, the temperature had been so much better in the pool.

Elena had never been the kind of girl that overly enjoyed water amusement parks. At age 15 she wasn't particularly fond of public pools. Even if she could pretend that kids never pied in the water and all visitors thoroughly showered and scrubbed before dipping their toes in, she still had to deal with the whistling pubescent boys. That and their very vocal appreciation of her new bikini of course.

"Hey. Pssst… Elena? Over here…" a familiar voice caught her attention. A shiver travelled down her spine.

There it was: the reason she was enduring the whole nightmare in the first place. _Damon_.

Her darling eighteen year old boyfriend had gently coaxed her into going on the daytrip with her friends, just so he could steal a moment or two with her while they weren't looking. _And they were always looking._

Warm fingers enveloped her small hand and began dragging her towards the tower in the middle of the subtropical park.

"Oooh no," she protested instantly, "I'm not going down the slide, it goes way too fast and then I can't breathe and when I plunge into the water my top always shifts and-"

"Relax, Elena," Damon interrupted, "Do something new, have some fun, some excitement. You know life is for living, right? Not just being alive."

"But Damon-" Elena whined.

It was no use, not even a minute later they were already climbing the wet staircase that led to the highest waterslide, a giant green tube.

"Damon, my friends will know I'm missing! I told them I was going to the lockers, they'll be worried if I stay away for too long," Elena argued.

"Then you better hurry up." Warm breath tickled the nape of her neck, causing her stomach to flutter.

There was almost no cue at the top. It was lunchtime and most people were stuffing themselves full of greasy burgers and fries. And _diet_ coke of course. _Always diet coke_ because _that_ will make it all ok.

The small light above the entrance of the green tube flickered green and the group of boys in front of them all disappeared one by one. "Go on," Damon urged. "Sit down and hold the bar on top until it's your turn."

Reluctantly Elena took place, slightly uncomfortable as she took in the darkness ahead, mentally preparing herself. Then the light changed again and Damon pushed her slightly, giving her a head start.

"Damon no, I'm not-"

Well ready or not, she was past the point of no return as the water swirled her forcibly from side to side. The voices of the guys before her boomed through the dark tube and for a moment Elena couldn't seem to remember how she could have ever agreed to any of it. Until she felt two strong arms envelope her from behind. _Damon_. She was pressed against a warm, muscled torso, away from the wind, away from the cold. And as Damon, _all of Damon_, enveloped her in his embrace, she relaxed.

"It's against the rules to take the ride together unless you're travelling with-"

Two warm lips found her neck, distracting her. With Damon's head resting on her shoulder and his thumb daring to skim some barely covered skin, Elena was officially rendered short on words.

"Mmmm," she murmured slightly.

"That's right," Damon grinned.

"You know you're corrupting me, right?" Elena mused.

"Always…" Damon promised.

"Hey! That wasn't a-"

SPLASH! They were already in the water, out in the great big world where they weren't allowed to be together, or to touch.

Little trinkets of water were flying everywhere as Damon shook the wetness out of his hair and opened his eyes. His stellar girlfriend however, was already heading for the exit. He wouldn't be fast enough to reach her in time, so he caught her with his eyes instead. Two blue oceans, deeper and purer than the diluted water they were swimming in, pleaded with her to notice those two luscious lips of his, curled downwards into a pout. _Not yet_, he pleaded silently.

_Please, you know I can't_, her eyes whispered as she tilted her head wistfully. _Tonight_, she mouthed eventually, as a compromise.

_The woods_? Damon mouthed back in question.

Elena nodded and her blue-eyed Salvatore smiled.

Then she kissed the palm of her hand and blew it his way, making sure that no one else noticed. Damon's eyes glistened. _The twinkle in her eyes, the hint of a shy smile still present on her face_. She was the picture of _perfection_ and _innocence_. And she loved him. _Him_ of all people. It made him proud, made him want to be _better_. Better for her. _Better _because she'd never ask him to change. He couldn't help the smile lighting up his features. She loved him. _His Elena_.

Forever and always, till kingdom come.

**xXx**

Present day

"Sophie eat your breakfast," Damon ordered firmly, sipping from his hot cup of coffee.

"But Tiger's not eating," his four year old pride and joy promptly argued.

_Tiger_. Damon did his very best not to roll his eyes.

Tiger was the annoying little kitten his sister had bought Sophie for her fifth birthday, the day before. The inquisitive five-week-old animal had kept him up all night with some very bothersome yapping and meowing.

"Sweetheart, that thing is afraid of his silly mouse toy, you cannot be calling him Tiger," Damon told his little girl evenly.

"But his name _is_ Tiger! You can't change someone's name daddy!" Sophie insisted.

"Fine. But eat your cereals before they get all mushy, Princess," Damon conceded, leaving the table to go look for a foldable shopping box he could convert into a makeshift cage. _Damn his sister for not thinking things through_! The little animal had no place to stay during the day and leaving it all alone to do its business all over the leather couch was definitely not an option.

"What will Tiger do today?" Damon heard his four-year-old inquire from afar.

"Sleeping, eating and pooping," Damon retorted swiftly.

"Why?" Sophie wondered.

"Because."

"But why?"

"Because that's what little kittens do sweetheart. What do you want on your sandwich for lunch?" Damon asked instead.

"Chocolate sprinkles!" Sophie instantly requested.

"Then chocolate sprinkles it is," her father drew with a smile, preparing lunch and boxing it up with two biscuits and some apple juice.

Half an hour later Damon had put Tiger in the plastic shopping box, which was now covered by a large glass picture frame.

"Come on Soph, put in a little more effort please," he urged, trying to coax his daughter's foot into the new brown winter boots they had bought her a few days earlier.

"But I want the pink ones," Sophie wined with a pout.

"Princess, the pink shoes are for summer. When it rains you'll get your toes all wet and you'll catch a cold. Please put your foot in and stop stalling, or we'll be late," Damon insisted, holding her gaze to make sure she got the message.

"If I put them on, can I go say bye to Tiger?" his baby girl tried to bargain.

"Fine. Real quick," Damon surrendered, zipping the tiny boots up. Sophie instantly ran off towards the kitchen counter where her little friend was meowing loudly and ruefully.

"Daddy, he's hurting!" Sophie exclaimed, looking up at her father with doe eyes.

"He's not sweetheart, he's just not used to the house yet. Yesterday he was still hanging around with his brothers and sisters. It'll take time, but don't worry, he'll be ok," Damon tried to sooth her, already walking out of the room to shrug on his jacket.

The sound of glass breaking reached his ears before his daughter's surprised shriek did. When he turned around, the frame that had rested atop the makeshift cage, lay shattered and scattered across the tiles. _Thank God Sophie was wearing shoes_.

Amidst the shards of glass stood his baffled, shaken girl, holding onto her stuffed animal with trembling hands. She eyed him warily, eyes teary and started to sob only a second later.

Damon rapidly made his way through the mess, ignoring the escaping kitten and picked up his daughter, cradling her against his chest. "It's ok Sweetheart," Damon shushed the startled toddler, swaying gently to calm her down. "It was just the noise. It's all fine now," he comforted his her, shifting her over to his hip to reach for Tiger with his free hand.

"What happened?" Damon questioned, setting Sophie on the counter and placing Tiger back inside his box, covered with a few firm placemats and some random things on top of it now.

"You said Tiger missed his family and I wanted to give him Olaf," Sophie sobbed, still holding onto the disfigured Disney snowman she carried around lately.

Damon wiped her tears away with his thumb, eying her lovingly. Sophie had a habit of bringing the people she loved her stuffed animals whenever she wanted to comfort them. He himself was no exception to that rule, luckily none of his colleagues had ever seen the Winnie The Pooh Sophie had repeatedly stuffed inside of his briefcase.

"Fine, Tiger can have Olaf," Damon retreated quickly, wanting to finally leave for work.

"Wait," Sophie stopped him when he reached out to take away the snowman. "Do you think Tiger misses his mommy?" Sophie wondered all of a sudden.

Her father's body tensed but he hid it quickly. "I don't know, Sweetly," he replied truthfully. "I don't speak cat."

"I think he does," Sophie informed him. "I want Tiger in school. Miss Judith will made him smile!" she insisted, lighting up, clearly referring to the fact that her kindergarten teacher always knew what to do when the kids in her class missed their mothers.

"Tiger can't come Sweetheart, pets don't belong in class," Damon insisted.

Tiger meowed again, drawing it out, long and ruefully.

"Do you miss your mommy?" Sophie asked. The cat simply kept meowing.

"Come on Soph, we really have to go now," her father urged.

"It's ok," Sophie told the kitten, "My mommy left me too," she informed her new friend. "But no one ever put me in a box," she added on a second note, eying her father now.

Damon couldn't figure out if the little girl understood the power those words held over him or if her comment had been strictly coincidental, but at nine sharp, Damon Salvatore confidently strolled into the office - half an hour late - wearing his trademark black button down, now embellished with a tiny ginger kitten catching a ride on his left shoulder.

"Are you for real?" Jessica asked when he passed the reception desk.

"Nope," Damon swiftly replied, with a popping p.

"Is that a cat?" Tyler inquired perplexed.

"No, it's a dog Lockwood. A fifty pound Rottweiler," he insisted, rolling his eyes at the idiotic comment.

"Salvatore. Office. Now." Ric's voice boomed trough paper-thin walls as he noticed his most charming manager roaming the hallways.

Damon swerved and made a slide to the left, dodging the mail cart before slipping into his boss's office and settling soundly into the chair before the desk. Tiger hissed and the plush hairs on his back instantly rose.

"Do I even want to know?" Ric questioned, quirking an eyebrow.

"Nope," Damon responded quickly, tilting his head.

"Do you have a solution for when you're taking a meeting?" Ric asked next.

"Double nope," his employee of the month contributed proudly.

"Damon," Ric sighed, letting his head fall back against the chair in aggravation.

"Yeah Ric," Damon responded, mimicking his boss's pose.

"You can't bring your cat to work man," Ric informed him, shaking his head.

"Mmm," Damon murmured. "So is this you firing the best negotiator on your team or are you not quite ready to bankrupt the company yet?" Damon inquired confidently.

"Asshole," Ric scolded his best friend, still shaking his head.

"That's what I thought," Damon concluded with a small nod, holding onto Tiger while he stood up again. "Glad we had this talk, _boss_," he drew sweetly, his voice laced with Salvatore sarcasm.

"Wait!" Ric interjected quickly. "We're not done."

"We're not?" Damon inquired, one foot already out the door.

"Your trainee is coming in today, that's actually what I wanted to discuss with you," Alaric explained.

"You mean the fleshly-graduated newbie, _I_'m supposed to teach all my dirty tricks to, in order to bust _your_ profit," Damon taunted.

"More like the gorgeous and intelligent young woman that's going to replace you if you keep this attitude up," Ric threatened.

"Can't you give her to Lockwood? I don't need an inexperienced little girl following me around like a lost puppy, _I already have a cat_," Damon flashed his eyes, pointing at Tiger to prove his point.

"Lockwood wasn't the one requesting a lighter workload, buddy," Ric informed him, his voice softer, carrying a meaningful undercurrent now.

Damon's demeanor changed as Ric altered the rules of their game.

"You know I can't-" Damon started out defensively.

"I know," Ric interrupted, trying to calm him down, "And I respect that," he continued. "But that does mean that you need an extra hand, someone to pitch in when needed. Look Damon, I can't keep giving you these privileges" he explained softly.

"At some point people are going to ask questions and it wouldn't be fair towards the others. If you don't want anyone to know, then you can't expect their understanding or their compassion," Ric explained tentatively, referring to the fact that no one at work was aware that the charming Salvatore was doing the single-parent–thing at home.

"What I _can_ do, however, is burden you with a trainee. A highly intelligent young woman who so happens to have a very _flexible_ timetable," Ric told him, eying him meaningfully. "No weekends anymore for you, and a back-up for whenever you're suddenly needed elsewhere…" Ric's voice trailed off.

Damon nodded. "Ok," he replied simply, absentmindedly plucking Tiger off his shoulder and putting the acrophobic kitten in his lap. "At what time should I be expecting my puppy?"

"In half an hour," his boss informed him.

"Great," Damon offered. "I'll set up an extra desk in my office then," he muttered, begrudgingly, yet significantly more pliable than before.

"Good boy," Ric teased. "And euhm, I'll let Jess fetch you some cat-stuff," he added on second thought.

Damon simply rolled his eyes before strolling out and into his own office.

**xXx**

Two knocks signalized a visitor by the door. _Actually, they didn't_. The four and a half minutes of insistent pacing already had.

Damon had been watching the coming and retreating shadow amused. His linen blinds were closed, so he couldn't make out more than a shape, but she was nervous, he knew she was. And somehow that thrilled the mischievous part of him, just a bit. He'd always been kind of a bad boy.

"Come in," Damon spoke, trying to keep his voice as even as possible and void of the sudden excitement he was feeling.

He heard an unmistakable sharp intake of breath coming from the other side of the door, right before it opened just a few inches and the young woman who'd been bracing herself came into sight.

_No. God no_.

Damon's breath seemed to get caught in his throat, while Elena wasn't doing any better, hesitantly shuffling inside with her eyes cast down. It took Damon a moment to recover himself. She looked so much like-, so very much like-, Damon opened the folder that lay on top of his desk, looking down at the black cursive name written neatly in the upper corner. _Elena Gilbert_. The _Elena Gilbert_.

"Excuse me for a moment," he murmured, grabbing the file from his desk and heading out quickly. _No_, was the only word reverberating through this thoughts. **No**, no, no, _no,_ no.

No.

**xXx**

_Shot through the heart_  
><em>And you're to blame<em>  
><em>Darling, you give love a bad name...<em>


	2. No good in goodbye

**_xXx_**

_No matter how it falls apart__  
><em>There's an "art" in breaking he<em>**arts**  
><em>But there's no "fair" in <em>**fare**_well, no_  
><em>And when I see you in the street<em>  
><em>I pray to God you don't see<em>  
><em>The silent hell in I wish you w<em>**(h)ell**_

**xXx**

The door of the General Manager's office swung open wide, without so much as a knock. "I'm not working with her!" Damon's voice boomed though the space before he was fully inside.

"What do you-" Ric started, but he didn't get to finished his sentence.

"The girl!" Damon quickly reminded him. "I. Am. Not. Training. That. One." Damon spelled out determinedly, crossing his arms in front of his torso.

"What did she do?" Ric inquired, not following.

"She's incompetent," Damon snapped.

"And you've deducted that in what? Two seconds? Stellar job Sherlock," Ric joked, though his tone lacked humor.

"Mmm yes," Damon managed.

"Ok. Great: let's hear it," Ric demanded, crossing his arms too now and leaning back against the front of his desk.

"She's-, Well, she-"

"Has an incredible resume, perfect grades and great references," Ric finished for him.

"You haven't met her. You don't know her!" Damon insisted.

"And you do?" Ric inquired. _This just got interesting,_ he thought, hiding his smile.

Damon nodded.

"How so?" Ric wondered out loud.

"She's in my office you idiot," Damon snapped.

Ric sighed. "As much as I appreciate you looking out for the company, I'm not firing anyone based on your judgy two-second-opinion. Give her a day, Damon," Ric insisted.

"But I _do_ know her," Damon contested. "We kind of… dated for a while in high school," he admitted once he realized there would be no way to hide the truth from Ric.

Damon had expected all sorts of reactions. Disbelief. Empathy. Curiosity. Yet not the booming laugher that suddenly resounded through the room. Ric quickly tried to recover himself, muttering a rushed 'sorry', but it was no use. Upon seeing Damon's sullen expression he couldn't help but break out in laughter all over again.

"Sorry man," Ric stated, "But I can't ban every girl you ever kissed from the building, we'd be out of employees," Ric snickered. "You practically _slept_ your way through high school," he added apologetically with a grin.

"I did not _sleep_ my way through high school, in fact Elena and I didn't even-"

"The answer is no," Alaric interrupted before he could utter another word. "You're Damon Salvatore. Suck it up. The girl is probably ten times more mortified than you are. And she's what? Twenty-four?"

"Twenty-FIVE," Damon automatically corrected.

"Same difference," Ric replied.

_No it's not_, Damon thought, but he held his tongue. "The point here, _Ric_, is that I _do_ know this woman. She's not a good fit in the company and she _definitely_ won't be an asset. You'd be better off letter her go, save both me _and you _the trouble," Damon insisted.

"No. The point here, _Damon,_ is that you're acting like a five-year-old. Look, I can't just fire her over her questionable taste in men…" Ric retorted.

"Asshole!" Damon mumbled.

"That's me," Ric sing-songed. It was no use admonishing Damon or trying to change his bad behavior, the only proper approach was to go with it. "Now get your arse back behind that desk of yours and grow-up Buddy. Or do you need me to go there with you to hold your hand?" Ric demanded.

"I'm going home," Damon responded evenly, turning on his heal.

"Oh no, you're not!" Ric denied. "You're going to introduce me to her right now," he added.

"Ric," Damon whined.

"Damon," his friend warned, his tone leaving no room for discussion.

"Fine," Damon mumbled. "But I'm not buying, next time we drink. And we _will_ drink."

"Fair enough," Ric agreed. "Let's go."

**xXx**

"She's vicious Ric. And cruel. No costumer will like her, she'll betray the company and-"

"Vicious huh?" Ric repeated, watching a young woman carcass Damon's kitten from the window. "She looks very dangerous," he added in mock-seriousness.

"She is, she's-" Damon tried one last time. But then Ric opened the door and stepped in. All was lost once he was greeted by her radiant and kind-hearted smile.

"Alaric Saltzman," Ric introduced himself. "General Manager," he added.

Elena nodded, shaking his hand politely. "And I assume this one introduced himself already?" he raised an eyebrow turning to Damon.

"No I haven't. I was… busy," Damon quickly recovered. Stopping the _what-should-I-do's_ in his head with one quick and easy solution: evasion. "Damon Salvatore," Damon supplied, formally reaching out his hand.

"Your mentor," Ric clarified. "Damon will be showing you around in the company, taking you to meetings, showing you the ropes. He's one of our best. I'm sure you'll learn a lot from him," he stuck up for his best friend. "Does that sound like a plan?" he tried to ease the tension.

Elena smiled shyly and nodded, much to Damon's irritation. Yet the blue-eyed Salvatore didn't say a word, patiently waiting for Ric to leave the office. Except: _what then_? It wasn't like he could force her to quit. Perhaps he could _make her leave_, make her _want to leave_. Or he could simply _quit… So many options_, he mused silently.

"Alright," Ric cleared his throat. "Let's leave you to it," he announced, clasping Damon's shoulder briefly before heading out.

The door behind him closed with a soft thud, leaving the room utterly and eerily silent. You could hear a pin drop as the uncomfortable moment stretched on and on.

"I'm sorry," Elena spoke, squirming under his scrutiny.

"What for?" Damon all but barked. He didn't utter the 'exactly' after the first words, but Elena still heard it. He needed her to be more specific, after all these years she had a whole lot to apologize for.

"Being here, applying for the job, I didn't know you worked here back when I applied and I…" her voice trailed off and Damon sighed deeply. Hearing her say those words wasn't as satisfying as he'd thought it would be.

For years he had wanted nothing rather than have her come back to him and beg him for forgiveness for all things said and done, yet now he didn't want to hear it. He didn't need the 'sorry', let alone the rehashing of their past. He wanted _nothing_ from her, especially not reliving those moments.

So in the blink of an eye, his demeanor changed. The hurt, the longing, the questions, he turned it _all_ off, his face becoming blank, his expression unreadable.

"Why would you apologize for applying for a job?" Damon questioned, sounding genuinely interested, as he shifted, uncrossing his arms, his posture more open now.

"Because of us-, I mean, because you work here," she quickly corrected, flushed.

"But I _don't know you_, and you _don't know me_…" Damon spoke thoughtfully, feigning confusion and meeting her eyes. This was the '_opt-out'_ he offered both her and himself and he hoped she'd take it. This was their chance of working together in a slightly less uncomfortable way. Yet Elena didn't take the bait.

"We kind of… _dated_ in high school," she told him softly, almost unintelligibly. A murmur.

That was the last drop for Damon, her _ridiculously_ edited version of events! Only he, himself was allowed to phrase it like that. She… she shouldn't. They hadn't _dated_. They'd been _in love_. And the young woman in front of him, the fragile and innocent-looking girl in front of him, had innocently shattered his heart into a million pieces. _Crumbling it. Setting it on fire. Tormenting it_. There had been no proper goodbye, no polite shake of hands and 'wish you the best'. There had only been pain.

On the outside Damon remained unfazed, a sharp contrast in regard to the seething fire inside of his chest, blood boiling underneath his skin. Was she kidding?

"Well I practically slept my way through high school, so I'm sorry, I don't remember you," Damon replied poised. He saw her cheeks turn a shade of scarlet red and he knew he was hitting where it hurt, but in that moment he didn't care. It wasn't enough. I_t wouldn't ever be enough_, he thought, as the old wounds seemed to re-open.

"We never euhm-, sl-" Elena started disdained, fidgeting uncomfortably, eyes wide and insecure.

"Well guess it's even more logical that I _don't_remember you then," Damon smirked, knowing she'd instantly realize what he was implying. _If she hadn't slept with him, then it didn't count__, then it wasn't the real mature kind of love._

_Focus. Aim. Score._

Elena's eyes instantly shone with unshed tears. She unconsciously stepped back and stared wide-eyed, like a deer caught in headlights, at the boy she'd once loved. _He wasn't there. No part of him lingered._She knew that now. Because the patient, loving and supportive boy-friend she'd once known would have _never_ been capable of such cruelty.

Damon's amused expression faltered upon seeing her stumble backwards, the effects of his low blow, he realized. She caught herself, he did not.

Soundlessly he gathered some files from his desk: notes and reviews regarding all the projects he was currently working on.

"Go home. Read through those. Came back tomorrow. You look like you could use a break," he mumbled, handing her the stack.

She took it without looking up, picking her jacket back up and leaving the office.

"_Meow_," Tiger wailed as the door was slammed shut.

"I know," Damon murmured, taking the cat into his lap. "I screwed up," he admitted. "But only after she did…" he added. "_And she screwed up big time_."

**xXx**

It was a little over midnight when Damon reluctantly opened the last drawer of his bedside table. It had an old, rusted key, so he had to wiggle the bended iron a bit from where he sat on his bed, before the lock finally gave way.

The last drawer was Damon's only private spot in the house. It contained a small amount of momentos, memories and keepsakes from times long forgotten, among which, a special letter. Up till now he had never had the heart to throw it away. He hated himself for it, _ridiculed_ himself for it.

_It already was_, all thrown away, still he couldn't bring himself to destroy the last piece of evidence of what had _once_ been there.

"_Forever and always, til kingdom come,"__he read. Over and over. And over again._

_"Daddy," a small and distressed voice came up from the doorway._

_"Yeah baby," Damon replied softly, his voice a bit hoarse although he hadn't slept yet._

_"My-, my bed-, it's-"_

_Wet, Damon finished in his head. He slowly rose from his covers, careful not to sigh or look disappointed, since he knew Sophie was already feeling embarrassed enough._

_"It's ok Baby, it happens," he comforted her, picking her up. Not that long ago she'd been dry at night, no longer needing a diaper, but ever since she'd been missing her Mom, the slip-ups had become more frequent._

_"I was dreaming," she started to explain, as Damon undressed and washed her in the bathroom, "And in my dream I did everything. I went to the little girl's room. And I used the stepstool. And I__was in time. And I really thought it was real and then… It wasn't…" she told her father sadly._

_After putting his little girl into clean pajamas, Damon kissed the top of her head announcing, "I'm quickly going to put the covers into the washing machine, go crawl into the big bed, I'll be there in a sec."_

_Sophie smiled broadly up at him, she loved to sleep in her parent's bed. It was warm, familiar, comforting… And if she squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her nose into the pillow on the left side, she could still smell her mom._

**_xXx_**

_When Damon re-entered his bedroom, Sophie was sitting on the left side of the bed with her legs crossed underneath her, holding a letter.__His letter._

_Thank God she can't read yet, Damon thought gratefully._

_"Who's it from, Daddy?" Sophie inquired, as her father took the letter and locked it back up._

_"Someone I used to know," Damon replied vaguely, tucking his little girl in and laying down next to her, staring at the ceiling._

_Sophie snuggled closer, tiredness finally catching up with her. She closed her eyes. "Did you love them?" Sophie questioned, yawning._

_Damon nodded, before kissing her goodnight._

_"All the way up to the moon and back?" the girl finally murmured, already drifting off to sleep, too tired to await the answer._

_"And much,__much__further too," Damon added ruefully in a quiet whisper._

**xXx**

_Where's the good in_**_good_**_bye?__  
><em>Where's the nice in<em> **nice** _try?_  
><em>Where's the us in tr<em>**us**_t gone?_  
><em>Where's the soul in<em> **sol**_dier on?__

I can't take the ache from heartbr**_eak._**

_**xXx**_


	3. Daughters

"We, human beings, are all different, some say. Every one of us: a _special snowflake_. Magnificent. Magical. Unique. Being unique also means none of us exactly fit the prototype though. There is no 'perfection' among us. _If no two are the same, then no two can be perfect_. Some of us are funny, others sensitive, or ironic. Some kindhearted, others guarded, or plain cold.

_We are not like the others_. In a way we are better and more flawed all at the same time. All of us are. We're all limited editions, but none of us are perfect, thus making the 'flaws in our system' what sets us apart."

Elena closed the notebook in front of her, she was far too tired for anything profound, especially the musings of her 15-year-old self. Her words didn't hold the answers she was looking for anyhow.

She rolled around on top of the covers, burying her face in the pillow, effectively releasing the ceiling from her previous scrutiny. _She had made a mistake_. Full stop. She knew she had. On the other hand: she had been fifteen at the time. How could Damon refuse to take that into account? And even if so, even if she couldn't count on any mitigating circumstances, wasn't there ever a point where a sentence was served, a point where she was deserving of a new chance? Weren't ten years enough?

The phone on the nightstand beeped, informing Elena that she had pushed the snooze-button one too many times already. She had to get up and face _him_, even though she couldn't. _Not after the day before._ How many snide comments could a person truly take? How many more would she have to endure before he'd consider them even?

We all have our ways to make up for our flaws. Some of us are funnier than others, some are prettier, some smarter. And some of us choose kindness and warmth as our personal shield. We take a hit. We absorb. The question, however, is how much that shield can take before it dissipates…

**xXx**

Damon's foot was tapping impatiently on the hardwood floors of his office. He was sitting however, and flipping through random stacks of paper to occupy his mind, yet the telltale tapping sound kept betraying him. It was a nervous habit he'd developed over the years.

Tick. Tick. _Tap_. Tick. Tick. _Tap_. Swoosh. The clock had joined the nervous symphony in the room, completed by the sound of pages being turned. Damon forced his muscles to freeze as soon as he became aware of the collection of noises. He couldn't take it anymore. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. _Of course the clock remained_.

It was 9:04 already. It was late. _She was late_. Punctuality was important to the company. _To Ric._ Damon knew that all too well. He could stand up and go talk to Ric, tell him about Elena's mistake. Perhaps this might be a valid reason for him to fire her. Hope bloomed in Damon's chest.

_No way_, he quickly reminded himself. _Four minutes would never be enough_. Perhaps she'd have a valid excuse? _Or perhaps she wouldn't come back at all_. Damon pondered that for a moment. Was he truly hoping for that, hoping for Elena not to come back? Would _not_ seeing her be any less painful?

His phone started to vibrate. Somehow he stared a second however, before picking up on the second ring.

"Salvatore," he barked into the device.

"Good morning Mister Salvatore, this is Miss Judith speaking," an insecure, young female voice greeted him shakily.

Damon was instantly on high alert, straightening his back, snapped back to reality.

"Is Sophie ok?" he automatically demanded anxiously, forgetting to apologize for his lack of pleasantries.

"That's why I'm calling Sir, would it be possible for you to pick her up?" Miss Judith requested kindly.

"Is she sick?" Damon inquired.

"She insists that she's not feeling well, she's complaining of headaches, pain in her stomach," his daughter's kindergarten teacher informed him.

"Have you checked her temperature?" Damon questioned.

"I have," Judith replied. "She doesn't seem to be ill, I had the nurse check her out too and there doesn't seem to be a serious issue but it's just-"

"What? It's just what?" Damon questioned, still concerned.

"She's upset, Mister S-"

"Damon, call me Damon," Damon interjected, calming down a bit.

"There's something wrong, Damon. I've had Sophie in my class for weeks now, she's always happy and playful, participating in every game or activity… But ever since your wife-" Judith swallowed audibly, unable to finished the sentence in the deafening silence.

"Lately Sophie just stares straight ahead in class. I can't make her smile, can't get her engaged in the stories we tell, the games we play. And this morning she insisted that she was ill and I, I can't help but think that it might not be the worst idea if you'd decide to keep her home for a day or two… "

A pained sigh fell from Damon's lips. _He knew_. He knew his little girl wasn't the same lately, but to have someone else confirm it, wasn't exactly what he'd been waiting to hear. "Do you think she'll feel better if she's home? Isn't there a routine kind of thing we have to take into account or something?" Damon demanded.

"She just fell asleep in the nurse's office, Mist-, Damon. She's exhausted. She says she's been having nightmares. We can't place her among the other kids like this. She's not ok. I don't know what to recommend, but I do believe if would be best for her if you could pick her up. Would you-"

"I'm on my way," Damon quickly decided, before heading out of his office while shrugging his jacket back on, Elena completely forgotten.

**xXx**

"Sophie!" Jessica squealed enthusiastically from behind her desk, smiling broadly at the sight of the adorable five-year-old holding her father's hand as they both passed the reception desk.

"Hi," Sophie replied shyly.

"You've gotten so big! Last time I saw you, you were still a baby. I can't believe it's been so long. Don't you have school today?" Jessica started to gush, a whirlwind of words coming out of her mouth at an unstoppable rate.

"She doesn't," Damon replied chipped, holding his daughter's hand a little tighter. "She simply wanted to see the office again," he added evenly.

"Oh I understand. Your Daddy does have a big office, doesn't he?" Jessica babbled, watching Sophie. "He has to share it with a new assistant now though, have you met Elena yet?" she wondered. "Oh probably not, huh? Elena's only been here for a few days. She looks a little like your Mommy though. Funny, isn't it? How is your mom by the way? Is she doing fine? I haven't seen her in a while. I think I last saw her in the mall, it's four months ago already I guess. I waved at her but I'm not sure if she recognized me. Did she say anything to you, Damon? Has she mentioned th-"

Sophie's eyes went wide and for a moment she just stared, her feet stopping as if they were nailed to the ground. Damon instantly picked her up, wordlessly carrying her on his hip to the nearest elevator. Sophie didn't make a sound, nor did she cling to him like she usually did. She was simply undergoing what was happening, staring dazed at Jessica until the heavy metal doors closed, blocking her view.

"Hey Baby, are you alright?" Damon whispered softly once they we both locked inside the silver cabin.

"She said she s-, saw Mommy…" Sophie uttered confused.

"I know, Sweetie, I know," Damon soothed her, stroking her hair.

"Is Mommy coming back?" Sophie questioned in a small voice, her chocolate brown eyes burning into Damon's blue ones the second she met his gaze.

"No." Damon replied simply, holding her closer. "Mommy's not coming back…" he admitted. "But we _are_ going to be alright," he promised, before carrying her to his office on the fourth floor.

As soon as they were both inside, Damon set his little girl on top of his desk, smiling down at her with four markers in his hand. "Do you know what these are?" Damon questioned, forcing his voice to come out cheerful.

"Markers." A small smile played across Sophie's lips. Usually she wasn't allowed to play with markers, just pencils, _but pencils were so boring_.

"I have to go talk to uncle Ric for a minute. How would you like to decorate my placemat?" Damon wondered, pointing at the spotless white placemat that served for writing down notes and appointments.

"Really?" Sophie double-checked, lighting up already.

"Really," Damon promised. "I'll be just a second, alright?" Sophie nodded.

**xXx**

After six minutes Sophie began to shift uncomfortably in the big chair which stood in front of the desk. She was on her knees, her shoes neatly lined up next to the chair, so she didn't leave any soil on the leather. She had to go to the bathroom. She _really_ had to go, but since her dad wasn't back yet, she waited. _And waited_.

One minute later, though, she couldn't hold it any longer and slipped of the chair, heading for the door. She opened it carefully, holding her hand above her head in order to reach the handle. The hallway was empty and on her socks, she hastily made her way to the other side, sliding the last bit. _She loved to slide on polished floors_.

She skidded to a stop in front of two heavy doors. One with the image of a boy, one with a girl. _Bingo_, she thought, as she reached up high for the left handle. The door was heavier than her father's had been though and she couldn't get it to open up wide enough.

**xXx**

Elena enjoyed the comforting and grounding feeling of cool tiles underneath her fingertips. She wasn't one to be late. _She couldn't be late_. So she hadn't been late. At 8:59 precisely she had swiped her card at the reception. _She'd been on time_. Whether that meant she was allowed to spend her workday hiding out on the floor of a bathroom stall, however, was debatable to say the least.

A deep sigh fell from her lips as she watched the door handle. _She could do this. She had to do this_. She would straighten her dress, walk tall, and be the young and confident girl she knew she could be.

_Tomorrow. Perhaps_. Her shoulders slumped again.

_Come on, you're going to get fired_, she kept telling herself. _What a pep-talk_. She chuckled humorously.

Reluctantly she unlocked the door of her stall and moved to the sink to splash some cold water onto her wrists and cheeks. She had a habit of fainting whenever she was stressed and cold water always seemed to help. Before she could even reach the tap, however, a soft clicking noise startled her.

She quickly scanned the room for company, but no one was there. It was only logical, there weren't that many women on their floor to begin with. The clicking noise resumed however, louder than before, and suddenly Elena noticed the door handle moving.

Up and down. Up and down. Except for the fact that the door never actually opened. After staring one more moment, Elena moved forward and opened up the door, swinging it forcefully, accidentally sending the five-year-old on the other side flying inside from impact.

**xXx**

Elena watched, startled, as a little girl stumbled forwards onto the tiles. She quickly crouched to pick the child up, rushing out an apology: "I'm so sorry, so, so sorry! I had no idea there was anyone on the other side of that door. Are you ok? Did I hurt you?"

Sophie looked up confused, tilting her head as took in her new surroundings. "I just really have to use the bathroom, Miss," she mumbled ultimately, before allowing Elena to help her up. "Will you please unbutton the top button? It's a difficult one..." she insisted, remebering her father was nowhere to be found.

Elena obliged after about three seconds, since that was the moment when it dawned on her that the girl was being serious. "Of course," she mumbled quickly, yet kindly, before kneeling and fumbling with the small jeans.

"And could you help? There is no step-stool," Sophie continued, eying the toilet which was about double as high as those she had access to in her preschool. Elena nodded, a little dazed. She didn't have kids of her own, nor did she have any experience with them. Helping the child somehow felt like a violation of the kid's privacy to her, though the five-year-old in front of her seemed to disagree. Elena did, however, politely turn her head away, although she didn't close the door of the stall.

The sound of water trickling down broke the silence. "_Just on time_," the five-year-old sing-songed relieved. Elena couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped her lips.

"Daddy will be happy about that," the child added seemingly lost in thoughts.

"Can you get down yourself?" Elena wondered out loud.

"Hmm," Sophie affirmed. "But I'm not tall enough to wash my hands over there," she explained. It wasn't really a necessary comment, however, seeing the sink was placed at the child's height.

Elena pondered the situation for a moment, taking in all forty inches (1m) of the little girl in front of her. "How old are you, by the way?" she questioned curiously after Sophie had shimmied her jeans all the way up again.

"Five. I just had my birthday," Sophie informed her with a broad smile. She stepped closer for Elena to button up the top again. "I got a kitten," she added.

"That's nice. Would you like me to pick you up so you can wash your hands?" Elena inquired warmly.

"Yes please!" the child accepted the offer eagerly.

"How polite," Elena commented, lifting the little girl, so she could reach the tap. You were raised well, weren't you? Your parents did a good job," Elena noted smiling. She was surprised, yet pleased by young Sophie's manners. Elena was well aware of the fact that not every young child was that well-behaved, a single evening standing in line in the local supermarket was quite enough to prove that point.

"Daddy," Sophie corrected.

"Huh?" Elena mumbled, absentmindedly setting the small child on the counter next to the sink so she could grab her some paper towels.

"Daddy did a good job," Sophie explained.

Elena simply chuckled, not seeking any deeper meaning behind that statement.

"So, what's your name?" Elena inquired, feeling it might be time for a proper introduction.

"I'm Sophie," the small child informed Elena.

"Sophie, that means-"

"Smart!" Sophie completed the sentence with a huge grin.

"Wisdom, actually," Elena corrected, "which is even better than being smart in my opinion," she added on the side.

"What's your name?" Sophie wondered out loud.

"Elena," was the swift reply that followed.

"That's funny!" Sophie squealed happily.

"What's funny about that?" Elena inquired.

"The girl at the reception desk said something about you, that you looked like Mommy. You do look a little like Mommy," Sophie explained, reaching out her hand to stroke Elena's hair. "Your hair is soft," Sophie mused.

Elena couldn't help but smile at the innocent and sweet gesture. "I bet yours is too," she replied, picking Sophie up and putting her down again.

"So, Sophie, where do you belong? Are you a little lost out here?" she inquired, realizing that there was probably a parent somewhere looking for the little girl.

"I belong in school," Sophie mumbled a little ruefully.

"Right. School. Why aren't you in school now, then?" Elena inquired.

"Because I was sad and I told Daddy I was sick and he picked me up," Sophie admitted honestly.

"Where's your Daddy now, is he looking for you?" Elena asked concerned, wanting to bring the child back to her father.

"_He is meeting_. But he always _meets_ long and I had to pee," Sophie explained. "I had to stay in his office," she added a little shyly.

"Alright." Elena nodded, considering what to do next. "Well, if your father is _in_ a meeting then it's indeed possible he'll be a while. How about this: I can take you to the break-room and warm up some chocolate-milk while you wait for him, he'll surely find you there," Elena suggested.

"I like chocolate-milk," Sophie informed her, beaming up at Elena through long lashes. "Let's go!" she added eagerly, grabbing hold of two of her new friend's fingers. A warm feeling spread through Elena at the sensation of the five little fingers curled around her ring- and index-finger. It was such a nice and oddly comforting gesture. The child's innocent faith in her, the genuine kindness and instant friendship... _those were the kind of things money just couldn't buy_.

**xXx**

Tenderly, Elena picked her little friend up again once they arrived in the kitchen. She placed the little girl on the edge of the counter next to the fridge where she had a clear view of the hallway.

"Why were you sad?" Elena wondered after a moment of silence. The little girl's words kept running through her head since she still couldn't make sense of them.

"Sad?" Sophie repeated, tilting her head in question.

"You told me that your dad picked you up from school because you were sad," Elena reminded her.

"Ow, yes," Sophie recalled. She was silent for a moment. "I don't like school," she murmured after a while.

"Why is that?" Elena inquired, stirring the chocolate milk before handing it over.

"Because school is waiting. And waiting. _And waiting_. And then you are happy when they pick you up. And then you're scared that they _don't_ pick you up. And it's waiting. _And waiting_. I just didn't want to wait today," Sophie explained with a shrug, completely unaware of the wheels that started to turn in Elena's head.

_Scared that they don't pick you up_, the phrase kept ringing in Elena's ears. There was something about the casual, though pained way the little girl had said those words that made it impossible for Elena to hear anything beyond that.

_Scared that they don't pick you up_, as if it were a remote possibly.

"Are your Mom and Dad late then, sometimes, when they're supposed to pick you up?" Elena couldn't help but probe gingerly.

Sophie nodded. "Very late…" she mumbled heavily, taking a long sip from the cup in her hands.

A rueful sigh escaped Elena's lips and she tucked a loose strand of hair behind the little girl's ears. "You know… my parents were late sometimes too when I was younger, but it's not that bad, you know? The next time it happens, you can just sing a song or two and then they'll be there before you know it," she tried to comfort the little girl.

"That's a lot of songs…" Sophie mused.

"Sometimes," Elena agreed, sitting on top of the corner next to the little girl.

"My Mommy is still gone," the little girl suddenly added, barely above a whisper. Elena looked up at her in surprise.

"What?" she questioned, to her the comment came completely out of the blue

"My Mommy never picked me up again," Sophie told her, meeting her eyes with an even and unfazed expression, as if she was simply telling Elena that her socks were pink.

Elena was too baffled to respond.

"That's why I was waiting." Sophie explained. "But she never comes."

"When did she bring you to school exactly?" Elena asked concerned, needing confirmation before her head went to various dark places.

"When I was four," Sophie replied.

Elena didn't ask anything else. _No how or why or when._ She knew enough. _Enough to hurt._So she simply wrapped her arms around the small child and pulled her slightly into her side. She was acting purely on instinct, not even realizing what she was doing until five small fingers curled around the fabric near her belly and a slim body snuggled a little closer.

"You smell nice," Sophie mused, mumbling against Elena's dress.

"You have cute socks," Elena replied simply, not letting her go.

She didn't know what to say or to do. If there was a manual on how to deal with children's emotions, she sure didn't get a copy. Instead they just stayed put for quite some time. And Elena watched mesmerized, watched the little girl that seemed to have enclosed her in her five-year-old heart already. _Kids._

_Oh how she wished she'd have a daughter herself one day…_

**xXx**

"Sophie's not feeling well," Damon informed Ric the second he rounded the corner of the General Manager's office.

"Flu season, huh?" Ric commented, not even bothering to look up from his stack of files.

"No… It's euhm-, it's more like… Like she's feeling e-, emotional-" Damon managed.

Ric looked up from behind his laptop, eying Damon with raised eyebrows.

"Emotional? Never thought I'd ever hear you say that word out loud." Ric grinned.

"Shut it," Damon ordered dryly.

"Oooh, don't be embarrassed buddy. It's not a dirty word you know." He snickered.

"Oh cut it out already!" Damon mumbled irritated. "I'm serious." He glazed. "Sophie's _feeling_ things and she needs someone to talk to… so I was thinking you and you're fluffy, mushy heart could take her for a stroll through the park or something," Damon prompted evenly.

"Whoa, thanks for the compliment, I'm truly touched," Ric replied, holding his hand over his heart to prove his point. "But as much as I love your little girl: she's your kid. I think she needs _you,_" Ric reminded him dryly.

"Come on Ric, I'm worthless when it comes to the girly-girly things. I like it _straight_ and _to the point_. No need to talk for hours and hours, rehashing feelings. But my technique doesn't work on Soph, I tried."

Ric huffed. "She's a girl, Damon. _Your girl_. Perhaps you might consider putting in some effort!" Ric retorted.

"I can't. Ok!" Damon nearly shouted. "Because the first and the last thing she ever brings up is her mother. And I'm not so good with her sad young magical eyes poking holes in my head. It kills me and she needs a parent who can hold it together for a change," Damon managed.

"Besides: our conversations never last over two minutes. I'm a guy's guy Ric, I didn't inherit the feelings-gene."

Ric sighed deeply. "How about your sister?" he wondered.

"Out of town," Damon replied, crossing his arms. "And no one else knows, remember?" Damon urged, aggravated.

"Well, perhaps telling people would be a start then, don't you think genius?" Ric asked his friend animatedly.

"No." Damon replied automatically.

"Why. Not?" Ric demanded, becoming gradually more annoyed at his friend's behavior.

"For starters: because they'll ask _questions_, duh…" Damon insisted, rolling his eyes.

"Then _answer_ the questions," Ric deadpanned.

"There. Are. No. Answers." Damon spoke slowly, enunciating every syllable separately.

"Oh there are," Ric mused, "You just don't want to acknowledge them," Ric sing-songed, tempting Damon.

"You're an ass," Damon mumbled.

"And you're in denial," Ric shot back.

"I'm not. I know what's happening. I just don't need hours and hours to rehash the facts," Damon retorted bitterly, though the reply didn't come as swiftly as he had hoped it would have, diminishing the impact of his words.

"Fine. Give me the facts. Short and simple," Ric challenged.

"Yeah, we're not doing that right now, I'm not the issue here," Damon deadpanned.

"Ok. Different subject. Why don't you sum up the facts regarding you and Elena? That's clearly an issue here…" Ric insisted.

"_None_ of your business." Damon flashed his eyes menacingly at Ric.

"See, that's where you're wrong, buddy. That's quite literally my business," he remarked, refusing to break eye contact. Damon just stared back though. _Because everything had to be a contest_.

"I've had enough. Sophie's waiting in my office. I'm finishing up the documents for Sea Real Estate and then we're having a loooong weekend," Damon informed his boss, effectively ending the conversation by leaving the office.

"Damon, come on, you-"

"Not listening," Damon sing-songed pulling the door behind him closed.

**xXx**

"Sophie, I'm so sorry that took so long," Damon apologized when he entered his office. "Uncle Ric was being a bully and I-" "Sophie?" he questioned, taking in the empty room.

"Baby, are you playing hide and seek?" Damon inquired, quickly scanning the room for his little girl, whose shoes were still neatly lined up next to his leather chair. He took a look at his placemat, Sophie had barely touched it. Suddenly anxiety grabbed hold of him, and he became increasingly nervous.

"Sophie are you here? Come out! Soph I'm serious, Daddy's worried, come out?" There was no reply, no little girl appearing form behind the curtains. Moreover, the more Damon came to think of it, his daughter wasn't that good at finding a hiding spot in the first place; she was still too young.

_She wasn't there_. The idea hit him like a freight train. Sophie was a good girl, and he'd told her to stay put. She wouldn't leave by herself, not without his permission. Damon rushed to the hallway. "Sophie!" she called.

That's when he spotted her, in the break room on the counter. Her eyes were closed as she leaned into Elena's embrace. Elena. Of course it had to be Elena of all people.

Damon opened the door briskly. "Sophie!" he demanded. The child's eyes snapped open. "Daddy!" she exclaimed, holding out her arms for her father to pick her up. Damon stepped closer and when his eyes met Elena's, they both looked down almost reflexively, as if struck by lightning.

"Daddy, that's Elena," Sophie introduced her new friend. Damon picked her up wordlessly, cradling her tightly against his chest. The second he had her in his arms he turned around, turning his back to his assistant.

"Elena, this is my Daddy," Sophie completed, watching Elena's baffled expression from over her father's shoulder.

It only took Damon three long strides to cross the distance from the counter back to the door. He was gone in the blink of an eye, Sophie was still waving her small hand when the door slammed shut.

One step. Two steps. Deep breaths. Damon reminded himself before heading back to Ric's office and entering without as much as a knock. He was seething, blood boiling in his veins and all that kept him grounded were the little fingers running through his hair.

"Damon?" Ric questioned.

"Need a moment," Damon managed, his voice strained. "Hold onto her for a moment. Don't let her out of your sight."

"Damon-"

"Do. Not. Let. Her. Out. Of. Your. Sight. Not for a second. Got that?" Damon insisted seriously, eyes blazing enough for Ric to know he had no choice but to obey.

It took Damon seconds instead of minutes to reach the break-room again, wordlessly grabbing Elena by her wrist and drag her to their office. Both doors closed shortly after one another with a loud bang. Elena was dazed and Damon couldn't seem to calm himself down.

"ARE YOU RETARDED? Was the first thing he demanded, his voice far too loud.

"What?"

"You. Are. You. Fucking. Retarded?" he demanded again. "You know that we have issues. You know I do not trust you and then you show up late and take my daughter?! Do you have any idea what that's like as a parent?!" his voice boomed through the room.

"Damon, Sophie-"

"-would NEVER leave on her own! I know her. I raised her. She does not disobey orders. And you luring her out of the office, just to scare me was a bad move, Elena. A really bad move! What did you hope to accomplish? There are many things I can endure, but going after my daughter? I'd be careful if I were you," Damon threatened.

"She was out of your office when we met! She had to go to the toilet!" Elena defended herself.

Damon didn't falter and redirected his attack. "So you thought she'd be a viable source of information huh? The ideal way for you to snoop around in my life. My daughter is a HUMAN BEING Elena, keep her out of your sick and twisted mind-tricks, she deserves better!" Damon roared on.

"I DIDN'T KNOW SHE WAS YOURS!" Elena suddenly shouted back, almost spitting in his face. That seemed to ground Damon for a moment.

"I met a little girl in a bathroom. She wasn't strong enough to unbutton her jeans and not tall enough to climb onto the stool. I didn't know she was yours, I didn't steal her away. I helped her. She asked me to," Elena explained urgently.

"She asked," Damon repeated the words evenly, letting them sink in. He let go of the wrist he'd been holding onto, releasing her from his grasp. "Sorry," he mumbled barely audible. "I was-"

"It's ok," Elena replied relieved, massaging the slightly red skin.

"I shouldn't have-, I-" Embarrassment spread through Damon like wildfire and he grew slightly uncomfortable. He had reasons to be so anxious, Sophie had been taken from him once before, but Elena didn't know about that of course, all she saw was a controlling father.

"Hey," Elena insisted softly, searching for his eyes. "It's ok, Damon," she insisted. Damon nodded gratefully and took a seat on top of his desk.

"Sophie-, she's… everything," Damon mused, still coming down from the initial shock.

Elena smiled warmly. "I know…" she whispered.

They were quiet for a moment, allowing the tension to leave the room.

"Damon?" Elena tried softly, after a while.

"Yeah?" he replied evenly.

"What happened to your wife?"

**xXx**

_I know a girl__  
><em>She puts the color inside of my world<em>  
><em>But, she's just like a maze<em>  
><em>Where all of the walls all continually change<em>  
><em>And I've done all I can<em>  
><em>To stand on her steps with my heart in my hand<em>  
><em>Now I'm starting to see<em>  
><em>Maybe It's got nothing to do with me<em>_

_**xXx**_


	4. The pretender

**_xXx_**

_The secrets that you keep are ever ready__  
><em>Are<em> _you_ready?_

_**xXx**_

"Damon, what happened to your wife?" Elena asked softly.

Six little words placed in the exact right order,  
>spoken by the right person,<br>perhaps even at the right time.

It was one simple question and it had a three word reply, but that reply never came and suddenly Damon's universe seemed to shift, in a fraction of a second.

A new mission came into focus, as temperature, sound and vision all blurred into the background for a fraction of a second. _Defense_. Suddenly all there was left to do was _contain_.

If we're able to anticipate the attack, we can prepare. We brace ourselves for the storm and when it hits, we're ready. We don't cry when we open the box of old letters, we peacefully put the flowers on top of the grave…

When the bomb drops out of nowhere, though, all we can do is try not to get crushed or blown to pieces. As soon as we register the impact, we have to cut our losses, pack the open wounds. Cover. Up. We contain the damage to the brief flow of emotions flashing across our features.

Our mouths stay shut to conceal the tremor in our voices, palms turned downwards as they started feeling far too hot. We do whatever it takes, no holding back, because the second we stop fighting and allow that surge of adrenaline to leave our system, we'll collapse. We. Will. Collapse. _No matter where we are. Regardless of who's watching._

Damon didn't move, he didn't breathe. For a moment he just froze, fighting his involuntary responses. It was no use, however, he realized, as he saw Elena's eyes melt. She could see right through him and he was _caught_. Caught by her eyes.

Caught by the enemy, lured into a trap.  
>Or caught by a savior, right before hitting the ground after a fall.<p>

Damon couldn't tell which, he couldn't tell up from down anymore. He was _feeling_ things. And Mister Damon Salvatore didn't do too well with _feelings_.

"Damon, did Sophie's mom pass away?" Elena inquired softly, offering him a yes or no question so he could answer with a simple nod. Damon shook his head slightly, his lips a firm line as he pressed his teeth together. His right hand was within Elena's reach, but she didn't dare to take it, even though she wanted to. He was having a hard time and she was already walking a fine line.

"Damon…" Elena allowed his name to linger for a moment.

_"Damon… what happened?" the familiar warm voice all but breathed in his ear. He cursed himself for his concerned eyes, his tapping foot and his nervous demeanor. He wasn't_that_guy, the guy who needed a shoulder to cry on or someone to talk to. It was all bullshit. Problems didn't go magically vanish into thin air simply by talking about them._

_That was the problem with dating women. Young. Mature. Naïve or educated. If there was one thing they all had in common, it was the fact that any one of them could spot emotions from a mile away. Drama._Alert_. Sometimes he felt like they had a sixth sense for that kind of thing._

_"Damon, are you ok?" Elena tried gingerly, instinctively sensing his distress._

_"No," Damon replied, deciding honestly might be the best approach after all._

_"Do you want to talk about it?" Elena asked softly._

_"No," Damon retorted, equally swift, pulling her in his lap as he spoke the words, to avoid hurting her feelings._

_"Damon…" Elena drew._

_"Elena, I'm a man, remember? The sex that generally says what they mean instead of the exact opposite. I'm simple that way. When I say 'No', I honestly mean: 'No, let's NOT discuss it.'," Damon insisted._

_"But I_want_to know," Elena pressed. "You've been acting strange all week and I-, I-"_

_To be young. In love. And insecure… A deep sigh escaped Damon's lips._

_"It has nothing to do with you, Elena, honestly. I've just been having a hard week, that's all," Damon tried to reassure her._

_Suddenly the sound of a snapping twig caught his attention and he moved to sit next to Elena, their skin no longer touching._

_"You're doing it again!" Elena accused. "You've been avoiding me all week… First you won't kiss me, then you don't want be seen with me around school, now you can't even touch me. If we're over then just tell me!" Elena snapped emotionally._

_Again. To be young. In love. And insecure. Damon thought._

_His cautious and focused stare softened and he tenderly grabbed hold of his girlfriend's hand. "If I tell you, then that's it, alright? You do not get to worry about_my_problems, or undertake any actions to fight_my_battles. If I tell you, then that's where our conversation stops. You'll let it go and let me handle it. Understood?" Damon questioned seriously._

_Elena hesitated for a moment but realized she had no option but to take the offer. "Fine," she conceded._

_"They know." Damon replied simply._

_Elena's eyes widened in horror. "But they don't even_know_me!" Elena exclaimed. "And we haven't-, we-" she stammered._

_"It doesn't matter, Elena, people create their own truth. It's not about the facts, but about the way people interpret them. He who writes the story holds the power…" Damon's voice trailed off._

_"They can't do that! We didn't do anything wrong!" Elena insisted._

_"They have pictures," Damon admitted softly, "We've been followed. I found them today in the mailbox," he added ruefully._

_"They can't do that! It's not fair. We. Didn't. Do. Anything. I mean, why are we even being cautious and patient if it doesn't matter in the end?!" Elena spat out angrily._

_"Because you_deserve_cautious and patient…" Damon whispered, calming her down and breaking the anxious haze for a moment. It grounded Elena enough to clear her mind._

_"What did your father say?" Elena asked gingerly, eyes tormented and apologetic._

_"My father loves you, he doesn't blame you. He doesn't blame me either, he's just… trying to find us a way out of this. If those pictures are leaked to the press…"_

_"Maybe we should-"_

_"No. We will not be intimidated. I've considered all the options and I've made my decision," Damon interrupted her, trying to sound determinedly. He knew she heard his voice waver, though, heard the silent fear seeping in. She knew he couldn't lose her, because those melted eyes of hers saw right through him._

_"Damon?" he heard her ask tenderly._

"Damon?"

How did she do that? How did she always manage to do that? Unhinge him, make his stance falter. Damon recovered from his little reverie and analyzed the situation. They were in his office, face to face and she had him back into a corner, taken control of the situation.

His walls had been down for a moment too long and the shield of indifference he had been hiding behind was now weakened, flickering. At this point he had two options: retaliated full force or surrender. _There was no alternative_.

_Lock her in or block her out_. Damon couldn't decide which. A part of him yearned for her, longed for a true friend. If he could just trust her again… he could confide in her, be loved by her, offer his daughter something she'd been missing… The possibilities were endless, the future bright. _If only_.

If only there wasn't that part of him that was about to explode. The part of him that had gotten hurt and never fully recovered. If only he could forget about what she'd done to him, how she had ruined him for anyone else, ever. That part of him just craved a fight. It was in battle-mode: _protect Sophie and protect yourself_. Attack the enemy and hit them where it hurts.

Damon eyed her wearily, his senses picking up where they left off. The clock started ticking again and he saw her fingers tremble slightly, betraying her.

_Poker_, he remarked. Elena was playing poker, just like him. Except for the fact that she had no option anymore, she'd gone all-in the second she'd asked about his wife.

"Damon?" She called. He had one final chance to fold.

Damon hesitated for a moment, by now he knew he could call her on her bluff, bring her to her knees. The main question was: _did he want to?_

"Yes, E-la-na," he drew, his voice charming and collected as he let the syllables roll of his tongue.

Elena shifted her weight nervously. Her expression faltered, eyes weary. He was going to put her down and she was like a deer caught in headlights.

_Mercy_? "I didn't want to pry, Damon, you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. I was simply… concerned." She was backpedaling. _She knew she lost_, Damon realized.

"Pry?" Damon repeated, his voice far too sweet, the fake kind. "Is that what you'd call it?" he inquired.

Elena didn't made a sound.

"Tell me, Elena, do you ask all of your superiors about their personal lives?" he inquired suspiciously. "Do you have a habit of making your voice all soft and warm, when you work with male company? Is that _your thing_? Because if it is, I can surely understand how you got all these glowing recommendations…" he mused viciously. Damon was still hurting, but up till now Elena simply hadn't realized how much.

"Twenty-five years old and gorgeous, staring deeply into her bosses eyes. Tell me, how has _that_ worked out for you in the past? The charm, the innocent and caring act... Where there many lonely men over at Gardner & Perch?" Damon implied, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Her showing up was twisting the knife in his chest deeper and now he was retaliating.

Elena felt sedated. Dazed. Everything seemed to faded into the darkness as she fought to hold back the tears, it was the last thing she could do. _Don't cry. Don't cry_. Don't.

"Perhaps you should have added that to your resume. In our business you could surely list that under 'skills', don't you agree?" he asked.

"Stop. Damon, pl-" she was ready to plead, but he wouldn't stop.

"No. I am not Mister Michelson and I'm not _interested_," Damon continued, stressing the last word. Elena's face turned ashen and she could feel the fog filling her head.

"But he and I, we-" Elena murmured startled. How did Damon even know about that? Had he kept track of her over the years?

"I don't care. In fact I really couldn't care less. It's only your second day here and you've already overstepped the boundaries. You have some nerve, Miss Gilbert," Damon spoke animatedly. "Let's set you straight, though, I'm not the womanizer you claim to have met in high school, I'm your boss and I'd like to do my job in peace. Will that be a problem for you?" he demanded.

Elena simply stared.

"Great. File the folders you read through last night, then start sifting through the neighbor complaints. Read them, organize them, then look up the respective senders and go charm them out of filing a lawsuit."

"Damon, I'm not-"

"_Mister_ Salvatore," Damon corrected, "I think you'd better start there if you'd like to keep this job!" he told her determinedly, his tone not leaving any room for discussion.

"You're taking things too-"

"I'll be taking on the female neighbors, Elena. And contrary to what you appear to believe this is an _actual_ part of your job-description," Damon informed her, bending the implication behind his words slightly, he was threading thin ice by now.

"Fine," Elena snapped, turning her back on him. She wouldn't allow herself to be pulled into the discussion, she wasn't about to let him walk all over her, _not a chance_. With her head shakily held high, she took place in front of her own desk, starting the task that she'd been given.

"And euhm, Elena?" Damon inquired.

There was no response. Elena stubbornly typed in her password, unlocking her laptop. She didn't have time for any more of his shenanigans.

"For the record: don't ever bring up my personal life again," he informed her evenly, before paying attention to his work again.

**xXx**

_What if I say I'm not like the others?__  
><em>What if I say I'm not just another one of your plays?<em>  
><em>You're the pretender<em>  
><em>What if I say that I will never surrender?<em>_

**xXx**

Ric's office

_"Need a moment," Damon managed, his voice strained. "Hold onto her for a moment. Don't let her out of your sight."_

_"Damon-"_

_"Do. Not. Let. Her. Out. Of. Your. Sight. Not for a second. Got that?" Damon insisted seriously, eyes blazing enough for Ric to know he had no choice but to obey._

The door of Ric's office slammed shut with a loud bang.

"Daddy's mad," Sophie whispered, it was merely an observation.

Ric's eyes quickly scanned Sophie for any traces of harm, he found none.

"What the h-," he cleared his throat and lowered his voice to a more even pitch, "What happened?" he inquired, eying Sophie intently.

"Nothing," Sophie replied innocently. "I was drinking hot cocoa with Elena in the kitchen and then Daddy picked me up," she informed him.

"Is that all?" Ric insisted.

"Yes Uncle Ric," Sophie promised obediently.

"Then why was your father so angry? Did Elena say anything? Did your Mom call?" Ric pressed.

"No." Sophie shook her head.

"So your Dad left you in the kitchen with Elena and then he came back and he was angry?" Ric wondered confused.

"No, I was playing in his office. And then I had to pee. And then Elena was there. And then Elena took me to the kitchen. And-"

Suddenly it dawned on Ric: "Elena _took you_ to the kitchen?" he repeated.

Sophie nodded and Ric shook his head.

"He was scared you were lost again," Ric put two and two together, lost in thoughts.

When Sophie tilted her head in question he clarified: "I think your Dad was afraid you were on _a trip_ again…" he explained.

"Like when Mommy picked me up from school?" Sophie wondered.

_More like when Mommy stole you away for 36 hours before deciding she'd played enough with your father's mental health,_ Ric mentally amended. He vividly remembered the hours and hours they'd driven around town, right before a car stopped right next to them, letting Sophie step out before driving away rather fast without a fuss. "Exactly," was all he replied.

**xXx**

"How is Tiger?" Ric inquired after a long moment, attempting to break the sudden tension.

"Daddy bought him a cage. And toys. And a blanket. I gave him Olaf and I promised him I would be back soon," Sophie shrugged.

"Good thinking," Ric congratulated her, pulling the little girl into his lap.

"Do you think Daddy's really, really mad at Elena because we made a trip?" Sophie inquired, revisiting the previous subject.

"Honestly, Sweety, I have a feeling Daddy and Elena need to talk about a whole lot more than just your little trip to the kitchen," Ric mused.

**xXx**

Damon stared at Sophie's picture on his desk, lost in thoughts. He wanted to pick her up and take her home, but he knew he needed to calm down first. Sophie didn't need a seething father, she needed him calm and collected.

_Yeah, right. There wouldn't be anything calm about him as long as he had to face Elena day after day. Why did she have to come and turn his world upside down?_ He could do without all that extra tension. _He had suffered and he'd recovered, who was she to show up out of the blue and rip open the wounds he'd so carefully packed?_

Elena was being very quiet, sifting through papers and writing down notes on colored post-its. She looked so innocent and he almost felt guilt for hurting her the way he just had. _Almost_. But life wasn't fair by any means, not for her and not for him_. She shouldn't be there, shouldn't taunt him like that_.

She'd promised him so many things, whispered all the words he'd needed to hear. But that was before she'd killed the little light that used to burn inside of his chest. She'd shattered his heart into a million pieces and he kept cutting himself trying to clean up the mess. _No. He didn't feel guilty. She didn't have to be in his office. She should have left once she found out he'd be forced to be her boss. That would have been the human thing to do._

"Caroline," Damon broke the silence, picking up the phone in his office on the first ring. Elena suddenly shifted her posture. She remembered Damon's sister like it was yesterday, they used to be best friends in high school. That was a long time ago, Care had cut all ties with her after the little trick Elena had pulled on Damon.

"Yes, like a million times already. What the hell were you doing?" Damon demanded irritated.

"Care, if you wanna bang your boyfriend, you can just do that in your apartment, no need to _travel around the world_ for that," Damon deadpanned. "Same difference," he muttered dryly to whatever his sister replied.

"Fine, I'll keep it short. I need you to Skype with Soph tonight, you know: the cute five-year old you just bought a living pooping doll, remember?" Damon couldn't help the little dig towards Tiger, he really wasn't that much of a fan of the meowing monster his sister had brought into their home. "That is if you can manage to keep your clothes on for two minutes, of course," he added irritated.

Elena could only imagine the stream of insults Caroline was surely sending her big brother's way at that. "Potato, potato," Damon snickered.

"No, seriously Care, Soph needs to talk to someone. Someone with _feelings_, hence: _not me_. She misses _her Mom_, and since you're always tattering on the brink of an epic breakdown, I'm figuring you'll do," Damon spoke bitterly.

Elena sat close enough to hear Caroline's '_screw you'_, boom through Damon's speakers.

"Yeah, I love you too sis. Skype at six tonight. Don't be late," he replied.

"Care? Caroline?" Caroline appeared to have hung up on him and Elena snickered.

"What?" Damon demanded.

"Nothing," Elena mumbled, refocusing on the papers. She still remembered Damon's little fights with his sisters, the two of them loved to bickered. She knew Damon knew that she remembered, but she didn't say a thing.

"Oh don't act like you know me. You don't know _anything_ about me," Damon bit back, glaring at her.

"I know you appear to be out of your depth with Sophie," Elena challenged. They'd already hit rock bottom as it was, it wasn't like she do make it worse. Damon was out of ammunition. _He had to be_.

"Let's blame that on my poor choice in women," Damon shot back promptly, making a face. _Focus and score_.

"Can we freeze the moment for a second?" Elena inquired suddenly, on a different tone.

"What?" Damon demanded.

"I said: can we press pause for a minute? As in: stop the hurtful comments and insults and be human for about 60 seconds?" she requested.

Damon quirked his eyebrows at her. When he didn't reply she continued anyway. "I can talk to her," she suggested evenly. "Sophie. I think she trusts me. If you need someone to spend some time with her and help her process things, I think I can help," Elena offered, meeting his eyes. "I like her and we got along."

"_You_, want to talk to _my_ daughter? _For me_?" Damon recapitulated incredulously.

"If you can refrain from referring to me as a _slut_ for a day or two," Elena amended.

"Are you kidding me?" Damon demanded, perplexed. "Is there seriously a part of you that thinks I'll _ever_ let _you_ worm your way into my daughter's heart?" he exclaimed in disbelief.

He'd been, there. He'd done that. He was the one who had gotten attached to Elena only to end up with a gaping hole in his heart in the end. _Sophie didn't need that_. There was no recovering from losing Elena. It was a fate he didn't wish on anyone, _especially not his precious little girl._

Elena was done with his insults though, she'd really had enough, "Yes, _Mister Salvatore_, I do believe that. Because I'm your assistant _and you only met me yesterday_. And ever since that first moment I've been nothing but polite and kind and considerate towards you, while you've been completely unreasonable and degrading. _As far as you know I'm a picture perfect person,_ _we do not have a history_, so why wouldn't you let me talk to her?" Elena challenged, raising one eyebrow as she turned the tables on him.

"You've got some nerve," Damon spoke menacingly, unable to come up with anything else.

"No, _you've_ got some nerve. Had you been paired with _any_ other assistant and pulled this on her, I am certain she would have filed a lawsuit by now. _With good reason_," Elena continued.

"You. Are. Not. Any. Other. Assistant." Damon spoke slowly, with a very low voice.

Elena shook her head and huffed. "Ooooh, no," Elena warned. "You cannot have your cake and eat it too. _Either you remember. Or you don't_. Which one will it be, Damon? Pick," Elena taunted him, sick of his games.

Damon stared at her, completely perplexed. _Where was the sweet, gentle girl he'd once fallen for. _

The seconds ticked by and no words were spoken until Elena softened her voice, "Once upon a time there was a fifteen year old girl, who loved a boy with whole her heart. And then some villains tainted their love, and drove the two of them irrevocable apart…" she started, reciting the first lines of a letter Damon still cherished. _A letter set in an era where Elena still adored poetry and Damon still believed in love._Needless to say_: a long time ago._

"That girl was young and foolish, perhaps, but she knows that she's made a mistake," Elena continued. "And the heart that got torn apart in the process, is still the most expensive thing she's ever broken," Elena whispered.

"_That girl_ would like to apologize, to explain, and for a while there she was prepared to take many hits, just for the opportunity to have that one final conversation. _But no more_. Because the guy from the story, she's never seen him again," Elena finished, bittersweet.

Damon swallowed audibly, he hadn't seen any of it coming.

"You're right, _Mister Salvatore_," Elena addressed him, mocking the formality. "You can't possibly remember me, because the two of us never met," she said simply. "If you had – met me-, if you'd ever known me at all, you would act like this…" she mused.

"Your double-edged words about me sleeping my way to the top, that's not just improper, it's despicable. It's so very wrong, it would have been hilarious if it weren't such a low blow. Preposterous. Yet it wasn't as ludicrous as you insinuating I would've _stolen your daughter away_ to mess with your head. Anyone who's ever met me can attest to the fact that that assumption was just downright deranged. I guess you're right then." She paused for a moment, leaving Damon wide eyed with his mouth slightly ajar.

"You _do not_ know me. _At all_. I got it. That doesn't change the fact that you appear to have some serious issues though. And I'd love to be your friend, and your daughter's, if you'd needed someone to grab a coffee with, that was. Guess not though, huh? Wouldn't want to risk me _trying to sleep with you_, now would we?" she eyed him meaningfully and Damon cringed. _That had been a low blow indeed_ and as much as he tried, suddenly he couldn't justify his own harsh words any longer, not when there was another side to the story to consider.

Elena stood up from her desk and collected her things, printing out one last piece of paper before shutting down the computer. She walked over to where Damon was sitting, put a signature on the page and handed it over.

"What's this?" Damon inquired, his voice hadn't fully recovered from the shock yet.

"My resignation letter," Elena explained, turning on her heal and walking out the door. "Have a nice life, _Mister Salvatore_," she told him, before calmly shutting the door behind her and walking away.

Damon was left dazzled, bewildered, one women could flip through emotions like they were television channels and he was out of words, awestruck.

_**xXx**_

_I'm the voice inside your head, you refuse to hear__  
><em>I'm the face that you have to face, mirroring your stare<em>  
><em>I'm what's left, I'm what's right, I'm the enemy<em>  
><em>I'm the hand that'll take you down, bring you to your knees…<em>_

**xXx**


	5. I wonder if you wonder about me too

I'm staring at the ceiling  
>Wondering how I got so caught<br>You're completely off limits  
>For more reasons than just one,<br>but I can't stop

**xXx**

Previously: _"My resignation letter," Elena explained, turning on her heal and walking out. "Have a nice life,__Mister Salvatore," she told him, before she calmly shut the door behind her and walked away._

Damon watched Elena's retreating back, awestruck. He wanted to say something, anything.  
>He felt the need to counter her speech with a smart comeback, yet no words came to mind. She was still witty as ever, he had to give her that at least.<p>

Just a tat unbalanced, Damon started to gather some documents on his desk. Absentmindedly he bundled a few papers into a new folder, before picking up Elena's letter again. He took a moment to admire her neat and cursive handwriting at the bottom.

She resigned. She was done. No more Elena._So why wasn't he feeling an overwhelming rush of accomplishment and excitement seeping into his every pore? Why wasn't he happy, satisfied?_

Damon didn't know how he felt, he simply shrugged the thought away. _No more Elena simply meant one less complication_. It was time to lock her up in the bottom drawer of his nightstand again.

**xXx**

"Sophie?" Damon called out, peeking his head around the corner of Ric's office.

"Daddy!" his little girl beamed up at him, happy to see a smile on her father's face.

"Damon," Ric acknowledged his best friend, "Is Elena still alive?" he inquired next, only half joking.

"Mmm," Damon murmured, putting the folder he'd assembled onto Ric's desk before admiring his daughter's drawing.

"Damon, is she ok?" Ric insisted, half torn between the need to protect the young intern he'd hired on one hand, and his understanding for everything his friend had been through on another.

"She resigned," Damon replied dryly, as if he was commenting on the weather.

"Please tell me she didn't," Ric retorted, a frown appeared, wrinkling his forehead.

"She didn't," Damon deadpanned, equally monotone. "Come on Soph," he urged his little girl, reaching out his hand for her to take.

"Damon?" Ric demanded confused.

"What? You said please," his friend taunted. "First page in the folder though," he added, right before closing the door behind him, ignoring the aggravated "Damon!" that followed.

**xXx**

Damon opened the door in the back first, arranging his little girl on the dark blue children's seat and buckling up her seatbelt.

"Daddy, why did Uncle Ric ask if Elena was still alive?" Sophie inquired, as her father sank into the driver's seat.

"It was a joke, Sweetie. Don't worry about it," Damon comforted her.

"That's not a funny joke! Why would he say that?" Sophie insisted.

"Well, not everything Uncle Ric says is funny, Princess," Damon retorted evenly, switching his car into a higher gear as he approached the street.

"It's movie night tonight," Sophie mused as the car turned left.

"Mmm, what movie would you like to watch?" Damon inquired absentmindedly.

" It's Mommy's turn to choose…" Sophie initiated yet another conversation about the woman that had left them both.

"It's _your_ turn," Damon retorted. He had checked the picture calendar on the fridge too in the morning, it was his wife's turn to choose dinner and his daughter's turn to pick what they'd be watching.

"I don't want to choose tonight," Sophie informed him, her voice soft.

"That's ok," Damon reassured her. "Why don't we watch Garfield? You like the funny orange cat, don't you?" he inquired.

"Will we eat spaghetti in the sofa then?" Sophie suggested hopefully.

"Of course we can, but don't tell your-, Uncle. Don't tell Ric," Damon caught himself just in time.

"Why not?" Sophie wondered out loud. It was a curious thing for her father to say.

"I don't know. Tell him, don't tell him… It doesn't really matter." The blue-eyed Salvatore turned the radio up a notch, in need of a distraction.

"Will Mommy come and watch with us tonight?" Sophie questioned over the sound of the music.

Two strong hands curled tighter around the steering wheel. "She won't," a cold voice replied chipped.

"But the rule is that if someone else chooses, you have to watch too!" Sophie reminded him.

A humorous chuckle died away in the background. "Like that's the only _rule_ she's broken." Damon's voice was laced with sarcasm.

"What?" the little girl questioned. She couldn't understand his words over the pumped up beats that filled the small space.

"Nothing. We're almost home." Damon informed her, finally spotting their driveway in the distance.

**xXx**

A soft thud resounded through the one bedroom apartment Elena rented, as she allowed her head to bounce against the wall. Once. Twice. A third time.

_What had she done?_

Giving up her job had been an emotional and impulsive decision, not to mention the fact that it had important implications concerning her career. What would prospective new employers think about the fact that she had landed herself a position in one of the most well-respected companies in the field and simply called it quits after forty-eight hours? What would she tell her parents?

And on top of everything else there was Damon. _Her Damon_. Well she couldn't delude herself into thinking part of him was still hers, but they did have a history. Once upon a time, not so long ago, she had worshipped the ground he walked on. She used to look up to him, admire him from afar. Ten years ago Damon had been everything she had ever wished for. He was compassionate, strong, kind, supportive… The last few days had firmly disillusioned her, however. She knew better now. Regrettably .

**xXx**

Eleven years ago

"Caroline…"  
>"Pssssst Caroline…" a fourteen year old Elena Gilbert whispered.<p>

A little helplessly, the young girl scanned the room for any friends who were still awake. _No luck there_. Bonnie was sprawled across the carpet with her mouth slightly open while Adriana and Emily were laying motionless in their sleeping bags. Exhausted.

It was Caroline's fifteenth birthday party and exuberant gang of pubescent girls had stayed up far too late the night before, partaking in ridiculous games and watching scary movies. Yet now six of them were out cold, savoring what little sleep they had left, only Elena was still awake. She really had to go to the bathroom. _Urgently_.

Now, if they'd been sleeping over at Bonnie's that wouldn't have been an issue at all, Elena knew the cozy house like the back of her hand. The Salvatore mansion was a different story, though. Twelve bedrooms, twee kitchens and two staircases definitively gave a whole new meaning to the word _spacious_.

Elena bit her lip and squeezed her legs closer together. She turned over again. _Procrastinating_.

"Caroline… Caroline please," she whispered almost desperately.

Two of their friends were asleep in front of the door to Caroline's bathroom, and since Elena didn't want to face their wrath if she woke them up, she'd have no other option but to go downstairs. _No_.

Elena squirmed underneath the covers. She couldn't hold it anymore, she really had to go now. Her lips curled together in an uncomfortable grimace as she gingerly lifted her weight off Caroline's bed. _Come on, you're fourteen now_, she tried to encourage herself, shakily making her way to the door. Hesitantly, she stepped out into the hallway, guiding the door back to its frame and supporting it to muffle the sound of the 'click' when it shut. _Closer. Closer. Closed._

Suddenly Elena was enveloped by utter silence, without as much as the sound of human breathing to sooth her. She wasn't fond of silence, or darkness. And truth be told: she wasn't fond of Caroline's _castle_. At All. Apart from that they weren't allowed to wonder around, especially not at night, but the door to the _toilet_ was blocked, Elena just hoped she wouldn't run in to Mister Salvatore, the Senator intimidated her.

Caroline and Elena had been best friends for about three years. During spring break, they had a habit of hosting sleepovers. Practically all of those were held at the Gilbert residence, however, since Caroline's parents were always otherwise occupied. Some weeks Caroline had spent more time around Miranda's kitchen table than she did around her own mother's.

With trembling fingers, Elena grabbed hold of the railing, clutching the old wood tightly until the surface warmed underneath her fingers. Step by step she descended the staircase_. Step… By step… By step…_The silence was eerie, it seemed to press her down like a heavy weight.

Whoosh.

_What was that?_ Elena turned around startled, practically stumbling down the next step. She couldn't see anything and her heart was beating erratically in her chest. She was anxious. _What is she's woken Caroline's parents up?_

Reflexively, she stared into the darkness, her eyes on the wall to her left. She could feel the eyes in numerous paintings staring her down even though she couldn't see them. She'd always thought of them as creepy and now-

Whoosh

_What was that?_ By now she really, truly had to pee. _Immediately_. Speeding up her tempo, she tip-toed down in six more seconds. _Two strides down to the hallway, turn left and she'd be there. Two strides down to the hallway, turn left and she'd be there,_she kept chanting in her head.

**xXx**

_In time_. A sigh of relief fell from her lips. She washed her hands slowly, concentrating on the drip drops of water falling into the sink as they broke the peace and quiet. _Finally_. It was a comforting sound, enough to give her the courage to make her way back again.

_A turn to the right, two stride to the staircase. A turn to the right, two stride to the staircase. A turn to the-_Out of the blue something tall and hard blocked her path. She stumbled. _The wall, she'd made her turn too fast. Except-_Two firm hands grabbed hold of her lithe body, steadying her.

_A man.__  
><em>Damn she got caught.<br>She woke him up, the senator.  
>He'd be so angry with her for disrupting his sleep and then-<em>_

Elena panicked, her heart threatened to jump out of her chest and her mouth opend. No sound came out and her eyes went wide, pupils dilated. Every tiny, little hair on her arms and legs rose and her muscles tensed before she jerked her arms back, almost tripping again.

"Shhhhhh… Elena it's me… don't be afraid," a familiar voice whispered.

"D-, D-, D-, D, D, D." His name never actually fell from her lips, her knees simply buckled as the adrenaline evaded her system. She had already been on edge and the unexpected encounter… It had simply been too much.

"Hey!" Damon whispered a little louder, quickly supporting her. He gingerly grabbed hold of her and opened up one of the large walk-through windows behind them. He led her into the garden and shrugged his jacket off, draping it over her shoulders.

When he turned around, after pulling the window back into the frame without a handle, Elena was sitting on the ground with her knees curled up against her chest. The moonlight shed a soft glow onto her delicate features and he saw tears streaking her usually flushed cheeks.

"I am so sorry," Damon whispered, sitting down beside her, his eyebrows pulled together in a concerned frown. He felt guilty seeing her like that, it was obvious he'd scared her. That had never been his intention, he thought of Elena as one of Caroline's most loyal friends.

Elena wasn't as bratty or as confident as his little sister, she was the kind of friend that preferred to stay out of the spotlight. She was modest and shy. Yet whenever his little sister was feeling down, or had done something that got her temporarily out of good graces of the school's queen bee, Elena would be the one to come over and comfort her. Unconditionally.

"Elena, I'm really sorry," Damon whispered again, taking in the confused and shivering fourteen-year-old.

"It's ok…" Elena replied with a tremor in her voice. "I'm f-, fine now. I'm ok…" she tried to reassure him.

"Yeah. Keep working on that," Damon offered, with a good natured smile in his voice. He wasn't reassured.

"Why were you out on your own in the middle of the night? That doesn't sound like you…" Damon prompted.

"H-, how would you know?" Elena inquired.

"Because my sister keeps telling my parents that none of her friends want to sleep over because our house creeps them out. Her only true friend is you though, ergo…"

"Caroline has a lot of f-, friends!" Elena interjected in defense.

"Not the point," Damon murmured. Elena couldn't see his face properly since he had his back to the moon, but there was no doubt in her mind that Caroline's big brother was rolling his eyes at her.

"I-, I had to go to the bathroom, ok?" Elena rushed out quickly.

Damon couldn't help but chuckle. "Care's room has a bathroom, Princess. You know father's not happy when-" he informed her amused.

"-someone fell asleep in front of the door…" Elena pouted and Damon pressed the back of his fingers to his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

"Don't mock me!" Elena insisted disdained.

"I'm sorry." Damon broadened his shoulders a little. "I'm sorry, it's just-, It's a little funny. Don't you agree?" he tried gingerly. Elena could feel his eyes warm and open peering into hers.

"It wasn't!" Elena objected. "You house is like a maze. Too many doors, too many stairs, everything was dark and quiet and then you-. I thought you were your father!"

"I noticed," Damon replied swiftly. "For a minute there I was afraid you'd start screaming."

A small smile played across Elena's lips. "I didn't," she realized.

"You didn't." Damon agreed relieved.

"So why were you sneaking around in the middle of the night?" Elena inquired suspiciously, unable to conjure up any reasonable excuse.

"I was out with friends, but Dad doesn't approve, so I snuck out," Damon explained.

"This late?!" Elena exclaimed incredulously.

"Yeah." Damon shrugged. "I'm not _fourteen_, you know," Damon reminded her, spitting out the age as if it were something to be ashamed about.

"Almost fifteen!" Elena interjected.

"In two weeks huh, happy birthday in advance," Damon replied, making conversation.

"How would you know? We never talk," Elena inquired, her tone suspicious although she secretly liked the fact that he knew.

"Well, how would I know?" Damon questioned rhetorically. "Elena, my sisters talks enough about you that I don't even need to ever see you to keep track of your life," he told her matter-of-factly.

Elena grinned. "You keep track of my life."

Damon slid a little to the side, away from her. "I don't. Don't flatter yourself."

Elena blushed furiously, embarrassed. She crossed her arms over her chest, snuggling into the leather jacket for comfort.

"How-, how did you know it was me?" Elena spoke after a long moment. "How did you know you had bumped into me and not someone else?" she wondered out loud.

"I didn't."

"You said: Elena, it's me," Elena retorted childishly.

Damon stood up and reached out his hand for her to take, to pull her up. "You have a very vivid imagination," Damon retorted.

Elena's hand tensed in his and bit by bit it dawned on him that he'd hurt her by lying. "I meant your fear of the house and my father, he's not that bad…" he tried to soften his previous comment. "You girls shouldn't be watching such scary movies, I don't want you frightened in the middle of the night," he tried to distract her.

Elena had already shrugged his jacket off though, and pushed it into his chest. "Night Damon," she whispered evenly, before feeling her way to the staircase again, her cheeks still flaming red.

"… because you smell different…" Damon whispered after she was long gone.

**xXx**

Present

Damon was not the guy she should be looking up to, Elena had realized that one night all those years ago, just like she was telling herself the exact same thing eleven years later, as she stared out of her bedroom window.

Much like old times, however, Elena couldn't seem to shake him, shake the idea of him, not then and not now. And yet again: he was out of reach.

She had to be brave, she had to show him that she wasn't a toy for him to play with or a button for him to push. But why did that have to hurt so much. Why did it always have to ache and burn every time she had to let him go?

Eh-eh-o eh-o, Eh-eh-o eh-o, Eh-eh-o eh-o, Eh-, Elena picked up her phone rather quickly, effectively putting an end to Bastille's Pompei.

The number on the display was one of the company. Unbidden, Elena's heart picked up its face. "Good evening," she spoke formally.

_Let it be Damon, please let it be Damon.__  
><em>Maybe he wants to apologize.<em>  
><em>Perhaps-<em>_

"Good evening, Elena. Ric Saltzman here…"

Elena's heart sank in her chest and she scolded her crazy mind. Of course it wouldn't be Damon. What was she thinking?! She had to let it go. She was better than that. Stronger. She didn't need Damon and she wasn't going to let him occupy her mind. No more. She had to-

"… firm," Alaric finished his sentence.

_Damn. She'd just missed every single word he'd said. Damn. Damn. Damn_. Elena bumped her head against the wall behind her before she thought better of it.

"Elena?" Ric questioned, slightly alarmed by the sound.

_Aaaaaggggggrrrrrr. Could it get any worse?_

"Yes," Elena replied hesitantly, her voice small.

"I believe we need to have a conversation about you and Damon," Ric informed her determined, his tone open and kind.

**xXx**

Over at the Salvatore house, Sophie was sitting closely to her Dad. Both of them were thoroughly enjoying the movie from underneath their blanket. Their plates were empty by now and sitting on the side table, waiting to be collected. Damon would clean them up when Sophie would fall asleep.

"It's funny," his little girl commented.

"Yes it is," Damon agreed, happy to see her smiling.

Yet right before Garfield stepped into the cab, the doorbell resounded loudly through the house.

_Mommy_, Sophie thought instantly.

_Elena_, Damon couldn't help but hope, right on cue.

Two pairs of eyes met, as father and daughter rose from their seat in sync, wondering if they were right. _Both refusing to give up their hopes and dreams, fighting reality._

_Were they__  
><em>right?<em>_

**xXx**

_So I'll remain within your aim__  
><em>until my thoughts can travel somewhere new<em>  
><em>My mind is blind to everything but you<em>  
><em>And I wonder if you wonder about me too<em>_

**xXx**


	6. All I Want

Sunshine.  
>It warms our hearts, it lights up our lives.<br>It makes us smile and it makes us glow.  
>Still we know.<br>We know that at some point the sun will set.  
>Darkness is inevitable.<br>And darkness will come.

If we'd be rational beings though, we would not be afraid of the dark. We'd remind ourselves that if we just wait long enough, the sun will come to shine again. Tomorrow. We won't succumb to it, not completely anyhow.

Rationally, we know that there's an end to every suffering. One way or another. We know that at some point that hole in our hearts will be covered by scar tissue. The question remains: when. When will we fall asleep and sleep long enough to stop counting? Long enough to forget how time goes by? When will we finally wake up and realize that the dark night is over once again?

Should we attempt to distract ourselves? Should we attempt to forget about that gaping wound for a second or two? Fine. Let's try. Let's all try not to think of lonely, white polar bears.  
>You just did? Didn't you?<p>

Distractions. **Denial**. They won't save us and they won't work. Still we'll try. We'll never quit trying. Because let's be honest, if the repeated chanting of the words 'This is not happening,' could actually save us from the storm just once, we'd be fools for not trying it out.

**xXx**

"Good evening, Elena. Ric Saltzman here…"

Elena's heart sank in her chest and she almost scolded her crazy mind out loud. Of course it wouldn't be Damon. What was she thinking?! She had to let it go. She was better than this. Stronger. She didn't need Damon and she wasn't going to let him occupy her mind. No more. She had to-

"… firm," Alaric finished his sentence.

_Damn. She'd just missed every single word he'd said. Damn. Damn. Damn_. Elena bumped her head against the wall behind her, before she composed herself.

"Elena?" Ric questioned, slightly alarmed by the sound.

_Aaaaaggggggrrrrrr. Could it get any worse?_

"Yes," Elena replied hesitantly, her voice small.

"I believe we need to have a talk about you and Damon," Ric informed her determined, ,his voice open and kind. "This is not to punish you, or to meddle in your personal life, but I do believe a conversation is due," he elaborated.

"Ok," Elena stammered into her Smartphone. It was only now that she became aware of the fact that the palms of her hands were starting to feel moist. She flattened them one by one against her jeans. Calm. _You can do this_, she convinced herself.

"I understand that you decided to leave the company?" Ric spoke, letting the words linger as he awaited an explanation.

"I did, Mister Saltzman" Elena replied chipped.

"May I ask you why?" Ric insisted.

"I'm afraid I'm not a good fit," Elena weighed her words.

"And you've deducted that before you're even halfway your trial period? Are you aware that the company won't pay you if you don't complete the first two months?" Ric inquired.

"I am. I'm genuinely sorry Mister Saltzman. I'm simply afraid this line of work isn't my cup of tea." Elena informed him politely.

"Is it the line of work or your ex-boyfriend that troubles you?" Ric ran his mouth.

"Ex-, excuse me?" Elena muttered baffled.

"I'm sorry to be blunt, Elena, but we could chit-chat here for hours, accomplishing nothing but an unnecessary rise in my telephone bill. Damon is one of my best friends, I know the two of you share a history. Did he do something, or say something to make you quit? Feel free to be honest with me, he won't get in trouble, I merely need to know," Ric assured her.

Elena had no reply. Denial wouldn't be of any use, it would simply place them in a very predictable discussion of Elena dancing around the facts and Alaric refusing give up before he gets the truth. There had to be another way out.

"It's my fault," Elena finally admitted, "Years ago, I made a decision to protect Damon and it backfired, it hurt him deeply in the end. I thought I was doing the right thing at the time, I'm still not entirely convinced that there had been any other way. But if you eye that situation from Damon's perspective, he's probably right to despise me. I should not have applied for the job, knowing he worked for your company. I'm sorry for that."

"What did you do?" Ric questioned, his curiosity spiked at the revelation.

"You should ask Damon, it's truly not my story to tell." Elena's fingers fumbled nervously with the fringe of her top.

"Please," Ric insisted, knowing he had even less of a chance at the truth if he'd had to squeeze it out of Damon.

"I'm sorry," Elena murmured.

"Fine." It was Friday night, Ric wasn't in the mood for a long discussion ending in disappointment. "But answer me this: if Damon would be alright with you working for the company, and I could relocate you for the time being, would you consider coming back to work for us?" Ric questioned.

It sounded almost too good to be true, but Elena managed a collected: "I think so."

"Then please come by my office on Monday morning, I'll work something out," Ric spoke decisively.

"Wh-, euhm, thank you Mister Saltzman, that would-,"_save me a lot of time and money looking for a new job_"-be great," Elena stammered, releasing the fabric between her fingers reflexively.

"Ric," he corrected, "And my pleasure, enjoy your weekend!"

"You too," Elena managed before hanging up, relieved. She allowed herself to fall backwards against the covers. Just once.

_It was going to be alright. Damon was not going to be an issue.__  
><em>**Denial**. The first stage of grief according to to Elisabeth Kubler Ross.  
>Let's not forget though, that denial is merely the tip of the iceberg, for we can't fix the problems we fail to recognize.<p>

**xXx**

_Another line of work my ass_, Ric thought, as he shrugged on his jacket. He had somewhere to be.

Over at the Salvatore house, Sophie was sitting closely to her Dad. Both of them were thoroughly enjoying the movie from underneath their blanket. Their plates were empty by now and sitting on the side table, waiting to be collected. Damon would clean them up when Sophie would fall asleep.

"It's funny," his little girl commented.

"Yes it is," Damon agreed, happy to see her smiling.

Yet right before Garfield stepped into the cab, the doorbell resounded loudly through the house.

_Mommy_, Sophie thought instantly.

_Elena_, Damon couldn't help but hope, right on cue.

Two pairs of eyes met, as father and daughter rose from their seat in sync, wondering if they were right. _Both refusing to give up their hopes and dreams, fighting reality._

_Were they__right?_

"Ric," the name left Damon's lips in a deep sigh, as disappointment and relief collided into one inside of his mind. The figure standing on his front porch tilted his head in confusion, this wasn't even close to the welcome he usually got. Both Damon and Sophie's face was void of any enthusiasm whatsoever.

_Ric... Not Katherine, not Elena._Damon processed._Again: not Katherine… h_e highlighted in his head_._A heavy weight seemed to fall off his chest, only to come crashing down again at the realization that Elena wouldn't ever be the one standing there. _Ric._

Ric stared confused at the befuddled expressions of the two people standing in the doorway. "Well… Can I come in?" he inquired politely.

Damon stepped out of the way, steering his little girl's shoulder to the side too. Sophie simply kept staring for one more moment, checking the driveway for a second car, there was none. She hung her head, not sure what to say or how to respond. _Ric._

Ric entered the house without much further ado, unzipping his coat.

"What are you doing here?" Damon wondered out loud. His friend didn't have a habit of stopping by unannounced.

Sophie eyed the glass storing jar filled with corn, that rested in her uncle's hand. "You brought popcorn!" she exclaimed enthusiastically, her temporary distress already long gone.

"Well I thought we were doing movie night," Ric explained, "And we all know how your Daddy loves to make things explode," he added a little softer, flashing his eyes at his best friend, who didn't miss the double-edged undercurrent.

The drawer below the electrical fire slid open and Damon took out a frying pan, "Sure thing," he muttered, drizzling down some oil.

Ric leaned back against the counter and opened the cupboard to look for a drink.

"Oh no, Buddy, if I can't drown my sorrows before bedtime, then neither can you!" Damon admonished with a smirk, closing the cupboard again. "Raising kids on Friday nights suddenly isn't all it's cracked up to be, huh?" He snickered.

"What are sorrows?" Sophie inquired. "And why would you drown them?"

The two men stared at the little girl. "Euhm, sorrow is like-, like sadness," Ric supplied, eying Damon. "And when _you_ are sad, we make you warm chocolate milk, to make the sadness go away. And somehow people call that 'drowning the sadness'," Damon finished, proud of his reasonable coherent explanation.

"Why are you sad then, Uncle Ric?" Sophie asked next, as she put two and two together.

Suddenly Ric's eyes started to twinkle, and he took his time shifting his body to face the little girl. "That is a very good question," he drew, the phrase heavily loaded with words unspoken.

Ric comfortably intertwined his fingers and placed his hands above his right knee. "You've met Elena, haven't you Sophie?"

The little girl nodded and Damon tensed and his best friend's eyes briefly met his with a determined stare.

"Well, Elena's a very nice and smart girl, isn't she?" Ric asked Sophie. The child confirmed again, to great agitation of her father.

"Our company met with at least twenty different people, before we found someone who'd be good enough to help your father."

Pop. Pop. The kernels had reached the right temperature and began to transform.

"And now she suddenly decided to leave," Ric finished his story.

"Just like that?" Sophie wondered.

"Just like that," Ric confirmed.

Pop. Pop. The popping appeared to be in sync with the short circuit in Damon's head.

"Alright stop!" Damon ordered, eying Ric angrily. "No work talk with Soph around," he stated as a rule.

"My niece wanted to know why I was sad, I merely answered her question," Ric provoked.

"You know well enough-"

"-that one can go too far, simply by making the right remarks or assumptions at the right time? Is that why I'm one employee short right now, Damon?" Ric rapidly turned the tables on his best friend.

"I can only be held responsible for what I said, not for how she interpreted it," Damon defended himself.

Ric huffed. "I'm sure both were equally lovely and admirable. And _welcoming_. I'm sure you've been _very welcoming_," Ric retorted, his voice low.

"I. Have. My. Reasons." Damon spoke menacingly.

"Yeah. I'm sure you do, _Buddy_, but that excuse is starting to sound like a broken record. My patience is wearing thin. I'm your best friend and it's been ten years, not a single scenario in my very vivid imagination can justify your recent frantic behavior," Ric lectured.

Damon poured the popcorn into a bowl and handed it to Sophie. "Here, Sweetheart, go settle in underneath the blanket and press play, we'll be there in a second," Damon dismissed his confused daughter.

When Sophie walked out, he quickly gathered two glasses and swiped the counter clean of oil spatters. "It wasn't all that spectacular," he admitted, avoiding Ric's gaze.

"We dated, we had a thing, then some idiotic pictures were taken and well-, let's just say that our little Miss Gilbert didn't handle that situation the way I'd hoped she would have." Damon shrugged, as if the mere motion could relieve him from his uneasiness and tension.

"Please don't tell me she put 'little Damon' on Tumblr with a demeaning nickname below or something," Ric demanded in mock seriousness. A sharp elbow landed in his ribcage right on cue.

"What? You said picture…" Ric interjected, rubbing the sore spot.

"That was in the pre-Facebook era, you Dumbass. Tumblr didn't even exist back then. Besides, she never even got to see li-, Big Damon," he added.

"She didn't?" Ric nearly choked on his drink, "All this drama over a girl you have never even _slept with_?" He blinked in confusion.

"Yeah, how sensitive, twenty-first century of me, huh?" Damon snapped.

"I never meant-"

"- to be a dick?" Damon finished, quirking his eyebrow in question. "Well you failed. And you'll fail again. It's in your nature," he muttered dryly.

"Come on, Damon, what happened between you two?" Ric insisted one final time. "What could be so bad, that even after ten years, you're still this angry with a young girl who was barely a teenager at the time?"

"I was in love with her. Ok?" Damon rushed out irritated.

"What?!" Ric's eyes went wide and his mouth was contorted as it was still deciding if it would hang open in awe or produce uncomfortable laughter. "In love, as in: love love, the fluttering-"

Damon kicked his friend in the shins "Shut up already," he murmured, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he shifted. His eyes were staring at various random points on the ceiling before Ric drew him back in. "No, I'm sorry, go on," he urged, attempting to sound inviting.

"Nothing more to say," Damon replied chipped, his muscles stiff as he awkwardly collected their glasses and made motion to flee the scene.

"Didn't she-"

Damon huffed, "Of course she returned my feelings, they never stand a chance against my charm," Damon offered matter-of-factly, his shoulders a bit straighter again.

"But she was young and naïve and at the first sign of trouble-, Well she gave up. And she did it in a-, let's just say that she did it in a questionable way.  
>One day she was mine, and the next she was someone else's.<br>She just-, she traded me. She traded me like I was a book or something. Or-, well-," Damon's finger tapped nervously on the side of the glass before he continued.

"No. She wouldn't have traded her books, but me-. I guess I was just never that important to her and that's fine. But-. You know what: just forget it. It's in the past now anyhow." Damon opened the door with his elbow, forcing a smile upon his face for Sophie.

Ric soundlessly settled into the sofa beside them, before shifting Sophie onto his lap.

"How about we make this a special night?" Ric suggested, eying Sophie. "Perhaps you and I could watch a movie just the two of us, it's been a while since I had you all to myself."

"Where would Daddy go?" Sophie inquired.

"Yeah, where would Daddy go?" Damon repeated his daughter's question, quirking an eyebrow at his best friend.

"I think it would do Daddy good to talk to an old friend again," Ric replied, holding her close.

"You think?" Damon's eyes widened in horror and disbelief.

"I think you two haven't talked yet, but I do believe that deep down you're both willing," Ric insisted.

"We already-"

"Calling her names and ordering her around is not talking, Damon, nor is it productive. Go to a pub, or have dinner, meet anywhere but between four blank walls. Just give it one shot, one single hour to take in her version of events and if you do so and decide that she's not worth your time, I'll ensure that you won't have to see her again. I won't bring her up ever again," Ric spoke tentatively.

Damon shifted his leg over his knee, broadening his shoulders. "That's emotional blackmail," he noted.

"No, that's friendship, Buddy," Ric corrected, staring straight into icy blue eyes.

**xXx**

A huff escaped Damon's lips as he reluctantly shifted his Camero into a higher gear. His nonchalance spoke volumes: Mister Salvatore was both nervous and annoyed, but above all: angry.

Two stiff fingers turned up the speakers and Damon gathered that he'd need an extra drive around town before diving head first into the next meeting. What the hell was Ric thinking? And where did he get the audacity to voice those thoughts out loud.

Damon hadn't ever commented of his Buddy's lousy taste in women.  
>Damon hadn't mocked his best friend when Ric's ex -green with envy- had crashed his most recent date. Or he had. Perhaps a little, but that was besides the point.<p>

The point was Elena. The Elena-issue had truly been a boomerang over the previous few years. Every single time Damon thought he'd managed to maximize the distance between them, the subject of his sleepless nights came flying back at high speed. Too fast to catch and never failing to hit it's mark. And that mark was Damon. _She never missed_.

A few years back Damon used to wonder if she did it on purpose: the pictures of her with a handsome CEO on page six the day before he was about to propose, the bike in his street when he was home for his father's re-election campaign… After a while it had ceased to matter to him. The fact was, that he was hurting, and every time that wound got a chance to heal, she was there to rip of the bandage. Her intentions were besides the point_, he wouldn't be in pain if not for her_. Lately, that was all that counted.

It's not fair to blame a fifteen year old for a case of unrequited love, some may say. _Fine. Point taken._But Elena had shown him something, made him feel something. She had radiated a magical glow, a glow of warmth. Belonging. Support. Care. In just a few months she had managed to open his eyes and show him a whole wide world beyond the cold and collected environment he'd grown up in. It had been everything. And now it was gone. Forever lost.

And fair or not. Damon still blamed her for it. Blamed her for showing him what he'd been missing, showing him what he'd miss from that moment on. One does not miss a long, warm hug if one hasn't ever experienced what that feels like. One can't crave five limber fingers, tenderly threading through one's hair if it's a foreign and unknown sensation.

But Elena taught him a million of those little things, thought him to love them, thought him to crave them and now he felt deprived. Ten years of consistent depravation. _And he blamed her, because there was no one else and he was more convinced than ever that there'd never be anyone else either._

**Anger**. It's the stage of grief that drives your friends away. Still, it's only a natural part of the process, once we're past denial and we recognize that we have faced a loss, we need a culprit, someone to blame. Who's to blame?  
>Life? Faith? God?<p>

God, that would make for an entertaining thought experiment, because if he's truly in control of anything and everything: every shimmer of hope and joy, every blow, every tear, every death, then thank God he's never signed the UN Charter. Christ. I'm sure they'd turn that into one hell of a spectacle in The Hague.

**xXx**

A little first curled around Ric's shirt as his favorite niece unconsciously secured her hold on the fabric during the finale of the movie. Her head was lifted from his chest now, her eyes glued to the screen.

When the credits appeared thirteen minutes later, she settled down again, snuggling closer once again.

"Uncle Ric?" she disrupted the quiet.

"Hmm," he murmured, his chin resting comfortable on top of her crown.

"Is Daddy visiting Mommy?" she inquired softly.

"No, Sweetheart, he's not," Ric replied honestly, "I'm sorry if we confused you, your Dad hasn't spoken to your Mom for quite some time now," Ric added to clarify.

"He's soooo angry with her," Sophie sighed ruefully, drawing out the word. "And he used to be her best friend," she added on a more rueful note.

"Aren't you angry with your Mom then?" Ric wondered out loud.

The little girl seemed to ponder that for a moment. "I was… a little. When she forgot to pick me up I was angry, but I'm not anymore, now I just want her back," Sophie mused.

Ric tilted his head and ran his hand soothingly up and down her back in long languid strokes, "I know, Sweetheart," he uttered softly.

"I'll be better, you know," Sophie vowed, "I told her that, in the car. I told her that I'd eat my cereal and put on the right shoes. I told her that I'd hurry up in the morning, and that I'd be a good girl when it's bedtime. I-, I told her. Maybe-, maybe she forgot, m-"

**Bargaining**. If anger fails, the third stage of grief is bargaining. For a little while, you're inclined to give everything else up, put all your wants, needs, hopes, dreams and traditions on the line for the lingering hope that it'll change anything. It's the '_I'll never do it again'_ in a desperate attempt to avoid being grounded, it's the '_We'll still be friends, right_?' near the end of a painful break-up. It's the last straw, it's the _all-in_, it's the third stage of grief before we move onto depression.

Tiger made a leap and jumped right in the little girl's lap, seemingly sensing her distress. Sophie's fingers disappeared between little, soft, ginger hairs as she lost her train of thought.

"It's not you," Ric spoke, eyes blindly staring, half absentmindedly, at the purring cat.

"Is it Daddy's fault then?" Sophie wondered.

"No. It's no one's fault," Ric supplied, "Not even your Mother's I think," he added the forbidden words he'd never voice in Damon's presence.

"That can't be. It's always someone's fault…" Sophie contradicted.

"No… sometimes it's just something or somewhere, or sometime. Life can take us to unexpected places, you know?" Ric mused.

Sophie wrinkled her forehead. "No," she stated simply. "Or Mommy is mad at me, or Mommy is mad at Daddy, or Mommy can come back," Sophie stated the only options that made sense to her.

"What if Mommy's mad at herself?" Ric suggested.

"You can't be mad at yourself," Sophie dismissed the option. "You cannot hurt yourself, or say mean things to yourself and then hurt yourself, that's dumb and Mommy isn't dumb," Sophie explained.

Ric let his head fall back against the sofa before turning Sophie around in his lap so she was facing him. _How could he make her understand?_

"Ok," he started. "Let's start here: you are a big girl, right?" Ric asked.

Sophie nodded.

"You are a big girl when you take care of Tiger, and you're a big girl when you eat your peas, you're a big girl when you clean your room and you're a big girl when you help Daddy. You understand that, don't you?"

"Jep," Sophie affirmed with a popping p.

"But sometimes, you can be a little girl too…" he continued. "That's perfect and it's normal, we all get to be small from time to time and have other people take care of us. Sometimes you need a grown-up to help you, then we catch the spider in the corner of your room, of check for monsters under the bed, we wash your hair, we patch you up when you scrape your knee. You cannot always be a big girl and no one would want you to either," Ric explained. Sophie was listening with interest.

"Now Moms and Dads, they're not always so big either. Sometimes grown-ups are sad too, or scared, or hurt. And I think your Mom had enough of being big for a while. I think she just stopped knowing what to do at some point. And when she realized that something was wrong, that she couldn't take care of you and your Dad like she used to, she just left," Ric suggested.

"But why?" Sophie insisted.

"Because Moms have to take care of their kids, and not the other way around. If your Mom had been here, and if she had been crying all day, you would not have known what to do... You would have given her a really big hug, or given her your Teddy bear, but it would not have worked and she would have continued crying.

That is not what your home should be like. Moms should not cry day after day and your parents should not have yelled at each other like they did. As a kid, you are supposed to crawl onto their lap and be safe, but your Mom couldn't handle that anymore. You were always worried about her and you were always sad. It was not your fault and it was not her fault, but it wasn't right either. It wasn't fair. Your Mom needed to try something different, she needed to try and find a way to be a big girl again and I hope that she will come back when she figures it out," Ric tried to explain.

"I want to help," Sophie insisted.

"I know, Sweetheart, but you cannot always help. Look at Tiger. Tiger sees that you are sad and he wants to make you feel better, but just because he wants that, does not mean he can. He's sweet and he's perfect, but he cannot understand why you are sad, just like you can't understand why your Mom is sad. And you shouldn't. You do not have to understand everything. You are five. In time you will learn and when you are eighteen and you want to help, you can, but not yet, and not right now." Ric met her eyes, trying to convey the message as accurately as possible.

"It's… hard," Sophie concluded, still not getting the gist of what Ric was trying to explain.

"It is," Ric confirmed. "But that does not mean that all is lost, Sweetheart. You can think of your Mom whenever you want, and you can draw her pictures, or leave a message on her voicemail. You should never forget that your Mom loves you, just like your Dad loves you. But you cannot be together for now, just like Tiger and his Mom are not together right now. It doesn't always have to be bad, you know… Tiger is happy living with you, and you have a lot of people you _can_ see and you _can_ talk to."

"But my Daddy can't comb my hair," Sophie mused.

"What else?" Ric asked softly.

"My Daddy doesn't know girly stuff… All the other kids in my class do girly stuff with their Moms and-"

"What if we ask Aunt Caroline? Would that be ok for now?" Ric suggested.

"I miss my Mom," Sophie simply replied, shaking her head.

A warm arm enveloped her and Ric held her for a while. He closed his eyes briefly in frustration at the woman Damon had taken to bed six years earlier. Katherine had never been a good role model and he hated what her negligence was doing to his niece. A part of him still refused to let go of the hope that there was good inside the heart of the manipulative, irresponsible women, though he couldn't shake the silent fear that Damon was right: perhaps the egotistical side of Miss Pierce did win out.

Where was Katherine anyhow? Did she have any friends where she could move in? Miss Pierce had been raised by a doting single mother, yet appeared to have succeeded in forgetting every single good thing the woman had surely taught her. So much for nature versus nurture, Ric huffed, wondering if Katherine was truly all alone in the world now.

**xXx**

Friends. The word had randomly popped into Elena's mind. Friends.  
>With all that had been happening at work, this was surely the time to vent.<p>

Determinedly, Elena grabbed her phone, swiping fingerprints from the muted screen with her sleeve, she liked her things clean and neat. Not that it was any use of course, there was no 'keeping your touch screen neat'. That was the whole point of a touch screen: to _touch_ the damn thing. It was practical, sure, but a nightmare to anyone with slight OCD tendencies.

The A of Adrian, Andrew, Anthony, Amanda… None of those names represented longstanding, durable friendships. She knew them, sure, but they weren't the kind of friends she needed right now.

The B of Bay, Bonnie, Brandon, Briana, Brittany… Bonnie would be her first choice, but unfortunately her friend was studying abroad these days and the time difference wasn't working in their favor.

And then there was the C of Caroline. Caroline who'd been there when her parents fought. Caroline who'd giggled with her when she had her first period, and had her first crush not long after. Caroline who was beautiful, intelligent, kind and popular and used to love her like a sister. She missed those times, how could that have possibly all gone to waste?

Ten years earlier

"Oh, come on Elena, one more mile!" Caroline insisted, jogging backwards in front of Elena.

"I-," Elena panted heavily, "I'm… n-, not sure I-" she barely managed.

"Nonsense!" the bubbly blonde dismissed all and any complaints. "We made a pact, remember? We were going to eat healthy and stay fit this summer. Now we're already eating healthier, this is part two of our plan!" she reminded her friend exuberantly.

The two of them were running wide circles around the huge Salvatore state. Caroline's father didn't approve of the two young girls showing off their bodies in the local park. Luckily paths around the large pond, the exquisite garden and the golf course made up for a great environment to sport, without lurking eyes.

"One, two. One, two. Don't slow down now, just four more minutes," Caroline announced.

The sun was burning, torturing Elena, yet in her enthusiasm, Caroline failed to notice how her best friend's face slowly drained of its color.

"Care, I-, I-, I- can't-," Elena started.

"Yes you can and you will. We do not quit, do you hear me, we do not quit!" Caroline urged, they were only thirty yards from the house.

Suddenly the consistent rhythm of feet behind her faltered, ending in one final thud.

"YOU WERE ALMOST THERE!" Caroline exclaimed irritated, eying her friend who'd hit the ground.

"Alright, I'll help you up," she surrendered eventually when Elena didn't respond.

"Elena…" she called. "Elena?" Elena didn't even move, she just lay there face down.

"Elena, this isn't funny! Elena, are you-  
>Oh my God.<br>OH MY GOD! HELP, SOMEONE PLEASE HELP!" Caroline shouted at the top of her lungs, overwhelmed by panic.

When no reaction followed she sprinted towards the house as fast as her legs could carry her. "DAMOOOOOOOOOOOON! Damon please. Elena's hurt, she's not moving, she-" Caroline shouted hoarsely in between pants. Her brother raced down the stairs a second later.

"Where?" he demanded. "Caroline. WHERE?"

"On the lawn-, close-, you'll see, please help, you-,"

"Call Stu. Stay calm. I'll stay with her," Damon ordered.

Stu was their neighbor, he was a heart surgeon who'd bought the property on the left side of their estate two years ago. Stu was the only one with a medical degree, in between the judges, politicians and businessmen that made up their neighborhood.

**xXx**

As Caroline called for help, it didn't take long for Damon to assess the situation. Elena was breathing regularly, so he expertly turned her onto her side and blocked her face from the sun with his body, waiting for her to open her eyes again. He didn't want to move her before checking if she wasn't hurt.

He didn't have to wait long though, a few seconds later her eyes fluttered open. Looking disoriented, she took in her surroundings. "Welcome back," Damon whispered.

"Back?" Elena murmured confused, reaching out her hand to touch her head.

"You fainted," he explained.

"I-, I just-" Elena stammered, she felt as if she'd just woken up from the strangest dream.

"It's alright," Damon soothed her, "Does it hurt anywhere? I'm afraid you might have hit your head when you fell."

"No, I think I'm fine," Elena informed him, feeling slightly embarrassed. She placed her hand firmly on the ground and tried to lift herself to no avail. She instantly felt lightheaded and slumped into Damon's waiting arms. He chuckled. He'd known she'd try and fail.

"Let's get you inside, it's far too hot to be out at noon these days," he suggested.

"I'm not sure I can-,"

"Oh, I know you can't," Damon snickered, carefully lifting her up bridal style. "You're lucky you're a lightweight," he joked, cradling her a little closer against his chest as he carried her inside.

Tentatively, he placed her on the leather sofa, lifting her feet with the cushions that had been neatly arranged. He rapidly collected a moist towel from the kitchen and tucked away a loose strand of hair before covering Elena's forehead. "Are you ok?" he checked, deep blue eyes boring into hers.

All Elena could do was nod, who was this guy and what had he done to Caroline's reckless brother?


	7. Color me in

Lyrics Damon Rice: 'color me in'

**xXx**

**Denial**.

_I tried to repress it, then I carried its crown__  
><em>I reached out to undress it and love let me down.<em>_

**Anger**.

So I tried to erase it but the ink bled right through.  
>Almost drove myself crazy when these words led to you.<p>

**Bargaining**.

And all these useless dreams of living alone  
>Like a dog-less bone…<p>

**xXx**

Elena's phone vibrated somewhere on her mattress. Semi-distracted, she patted the fluffy surface for her slick device. _New message: Ric Saltzman_. A swipe from her finger revealed the incoming text: "_I gave Damon your address, I hope that's ok. I'll be staying with Sophie, take as much time as you need_. – Ric Saltzman."

Elena couldn't help re-reading the message. Puzzled.  
>Why?<p>

For months she'd been trying to find her place in the new environment she'd found herself in. She'd tried to forge a connection with her downstairs neighbor, some colleagues, and the local bartender down the street. But her efforts had been merely that: efforts. In vain. _And now her boss of all people, was the one to reach out his hand?_

**xXx**

In the last few months, Elena had never been able to shake the feeling that the new 'friendships' she'd created did not run deeply enough. Sure she had people she could borrow sugar from if she were to ever run out, but on nights like the one she was experiencing, she couldn't help feeling lonely. In the end all the people she'd met, lived on their own little islands. _So who cared if the power on hers ran out?_

In all honesty, her life in the big city reminded her of high school in that aspect: a world where three rows of X's and a dozen hearts at the end of each and every message were supposed to prove that the 'friendship was still intact'. _Best Friends Forever_. A weapon in the era of raging insecurities. A promise, but in hindsight perhaps rather a hope, the silent wish that ties do bind, that when darkness falls upon us, when we need it, those '_best friends'_ will, indeed, rise to the occasion and put those precious words into action. Perhaps?

It appears to be imperative to have 'friends', even 'Facebook friends' or 'followers' on twitter. Furthermore: we need not stop the lovely exchange of pleasantries either. Various studies have shown that we crave these 'social interactions', even the superficial ones.

Crucial question in that regard: when your island runs out of power, when you need help, but are a tad too occupied or worn down to express proper gratitude, will anyone have the time to build a bridge and carry a candle up to your shore or will watching you self-destruct be a greater source of entertainment. Reality TV, no? _Oh isn't it lovely how some people appear to be even worse off than you are?_

Despicable_._

**xXx**

Eleven years ago

"Take a gulp," Adriana insisted, handing Caroline the bottle of liquor the girls had stolen from Senator Salvatore's study.

"But I already did!" complained Caroline, "And technically you can't make me, unless it's my next dare," she decided, crossing her arms in defiance.

"Fine. Be a baby. It was Emily's turn anyway," conceded Adriana disgruntled. The spoiled brat and self-appointed queen B, eyed her nails with exceptional interest.

"Truth or dare?" Caroline quickly asked Emily, shooting a nervous glance at Elena, who's fidgeting fingers proved that she, too, had picked up on the renewed tension.

"Truth," whispered Emily in a soft voice, eying the bottle she wished to avoid.

Adriana huffed.

"In your opinion," started Caroline, "who's the prettiest girl in our class? I mean, if you were a boy, who would you pick?" Caroline wondered out loud.

It had been merely a diplomatic question. The obvious answer was sitting right across from her. _Cute blond curls, sparkling blue eyes with long lashes, a radiant smile, legs that appeared to go on forever…_ It was high time to stroke Queen Adriana's ego a little, because that line between '_best friends forever_' and '_persona non grata'_ was not as impervious as one would hope.

"Elena," Emily spoke. Elena's head instantly turned toward Emily in surprise and she shyly accepted the warm smile Adriana's best friend willfully sent her way.

Elena's eyes lit up for one brief moment before the spotlight brutally refocused. "How cute," Adriana drew, barely able to keep the menacing undercurrent at bay, "I imagine Elena's up next then? I surely hope so, since I have a wonderful dare in mind," she flashed her eyes meaningfully and Elena shifted uncomfortable in her seat.

Their game had rules. Technically, Elena had a choice: she could either take the dare, or she could simply go for truth instead. _Freedom of choice_. No one appeared to remember that, however, as Adriana decided to step up the game.

"Damon." Blue eyes started glistening dangerously and the way the young girl was meticulously flexing her nimble fingers spoke volumes. _Revenge_. As Elena's and Caroline's eyes met, the bottle of liquor was suddenly no longer the worst option.

"How do you feel about Damon?" Adriana drew sickeningly sweetly, crossing two barely clad legs and adjusting her skirt with elegance and precision.

"Is that a truth-question?" Caroline dared to inquire, although her voice lacked its usual bravado.

"No, Caroline. It's simply me asking my friend about something I've been curious about," Adriana informed the fellow blonde coldly.

Ever since Adriana had first laid eyes on Damon, she'd been mesmerized by his charm. Her schoolgirl crush had amounted to nothing but sheer disappointment, however, as Damon had always remained indifferent in regard to her affections.

The year before, the slightly annoyed Salvatore junior had even jokingly informed the schoolyard 'that he'd sooner die, than date a girl that looked like a carbon copy of his little sister', upon being asked if he was planning to take Adriana to the school dance. Needless to say, that Queen Adriana, who was convinced no girl in her court could compare, had been displeased.

And to state that Damon's unmistakable interest in Elena irritated her, would be the understatement of a lifetime. Ever since Elena's fainting spell, she'd gotten a lot closer to Caroline's big brother, even helping him cook whenever Caroline took longer to study. Caroline, herself, didn't see the harm in that, she thought it was nice to see her brother in 'decent companionship' as she liked to call it, Adriana, however, did not share that opinion.

"So?" Adriana insisted.

"I-, I think Damon's kind," Elena stammered, eyes wide.

"Go on," Adriana pressed.

"He's-, well, I don't know. He's a good guy, isn't he?" Elena redirected the line of questioning.

"Hmm. Do you think he's hot?" Adriana wondered, eyebrows half an inch too high.

"Hey, that's enough. He's my brother!" Caroline interjected.

"Fine. The dare then. Elena, I dare you to go up to his room and kiss him," Adriana challenged out of the blue.

The three girls stared awestruck toward the vicious blond.

"What?" Adriana demanded. "The game's called truth or dare. We agreed no dares are off limits and I believe I just voiced mine," Adriana spelled out.

"Come on, you can't-"

"-help Elena?" Adriana finished Caroline's sentence. "Sure I can. Let's not be hypocrites, we all know Elena's been crushing on your brother for weeks now. The poor guy can't move a finger without two dull doe eyes glued to his back, no offence Elena," Adriana interjected, eying her '_friend'_.

"Seeing her stretch her neck to catch a glimpse of him has me kind of bored though, nothing ever happens. So here I present her with the opportunity of a lifetime: kiss Damon, this is the perfect excuse and the _only_ one she'll be getting," the blonde pressed.

No one spoke amongst the three other girls. Emily excused herself for a quick bathroom break, Caroline fruitlessly searched for Elena's eyes and Elena herself fought hard to maintain her composure.

The old grandfather clock downstairs struck 10 PM and after a soft knock, in walked Damon, right on cue.

"Hey, euhm, Care?" he demanded his sister's attention, "Dad just texted, they're on their way home, might wanna put back the booze before our old man blames _me_ for taking it," he informed her, flashing his eyes. After a polite nod in Elena's general direction he turned on his heel.

"Wait!" Adriana called. Damon eyed her suspiciously.

"You're right on time actually, we just dared Elena to kiss you. Any _objections_?" the annoying teenager challenged. Damon stepped back as if struck by lightning. He shook his head with a confused expression, "I'm not a part of your silly little games Adi," Damon spoke curtly, before fleeing the scene rather quickly.

"Well, at least you know how he feels about you now," Adriana explained Elena. "But no need to thank me. That's what friends are for, right?" she concluded with a smirk that radiated satisfaction. Friend. _Best friends forever_.

**xXx**

Present day

The bed creaked slightly as Elena readjusted herself atop the fluffy pillows. Absentmindedly she shifted her phone from one hand to another.

"_I gave Damon your address, I hope that's ok. I'll be staying with Sophie, take as much time as you need_. Ric Saltzman," she read again. It was a simple text, just a few lines. But it wasn't even about the words themselves, it was about what they implied. Because regardless of their length or even precise content: those kind of messages always came down to one same crucial concept:

_Hey. I'm taking a minute of my time to let you know I care.__  
><em>Hey. I'm taking a minute of my time to let you know I'm here<em>_.

On the receiving end of a message like that, it's difficult to know what to reply. What should one reply? _Thanks_?

It's funny actually, the deeper one strikes emotionally, the more one actually achieves in 'supporting' us, the lesser the coherency of the response they'll get in return._If we even find a way to respond, that is. How does one respond?_

The most wonderful part about it, is that many of those wonderfully supportive people could care less about the level of 'gratitude' in our reply. All they want to do is help. No need for three rows of X-es, no need for a dozen hearts, no need to be 'best friends forever'. Some people are just there.

**xXx**

Damon was there.  
>He had just arrived. He checked the address of the apartment building with the one Ric had send him in a text. There it was, right in front of him.<p>

The blue-eyed Salvatore calmly parked his car on the other side of the street. In no hurry to get out, he scanned the dark blue piece of architecture. _Fancy, especially for someone at the beginning of their career,_ he thought to himself. Slightly curious he counted the stories until his eyes found the third floor. There was a light on and no curtains behind the windows.

Damon stepped out of his vehicle and nonchalantly snapped the door shut. When he peered upwards, angling his head the right way, he could see a figure sitting by the window. Elena, he was sure of it.

A humorless chuckle left his lips, as he gathered what he must look like to other people. A creep. A stalker. A lurker, demander of unwanted attention. He was not supposed to be there, but then again, that had always been the case and just like old times: he did not care.

"Don't worry, Damon," Caroline had always insisted, "It's only _creepy_ when it's a _creepy_ guy, when he's as charming and good-looking as you are, it's romantic." _Oh don't we all love double standards_.

So Damon leaned back against the building on the other side and took a few deep breaths as he thought of ways to cross the distance. _Hey, at least she was no longer a minor._

**xXx**

Eleven years ago

"Mom, could you please come and pick me up?" a soft voice demanded shakily over the phone. Damon pricked up his ears at the sound of Elena's distressed voice.

"No. No I'm fine but-" he heard her retreat after a while. "Yes, but I'm tired and I still have to study this weekend and-"

"I know I should have thought of it sooner Mom, but please, just please, I… Ok. Fine. Good night." After a sigh of defeat, the sound of a mobile phone snapping closed broke the silence. Damon swung his door open a mere second later. "Elena?"

Two feet tiptoed away as fast as they could upon hearing his voice, but Damon was faster and he caught her wrist reflexively.

"Elena?"

"No." With limited effort she pulled her arm back.

"Elena, I'm sorry. But hey, don't let Adriana get to you guys, she's not w-"

"Just leave me be," Elena interjected, still keeping her back to him and inching closer to Caroline's room.

"I just want you to know that-"

"-that you pity me for being humiliated. Well thank you, Damon. Good night." Elena was about to yank her arm back more forcefully, when she felt his grasp soften and lower, until he was no longer holding her wrist but her hand.

Without a word he intertwined the fingers of his right hand with hers, from behind her, a jolt of electricity spreading through her like wildfire.

When Elena didn't move, Damon made a single step toward her, until his chest touched her back. Careful to find a balance between warmth and decency, he placed his left hand on her upper arm. "No one speaks for me, except me," Damon spoke softly, turning the trembling girl in his arms round to face him.

"-and had you asked, I would have told you that from where I'm standing you are nothing short of amazing." He lowered his eyes to meet her gaze and Elena found herself forgetting to inhale as she processed, completely awestruck.

"But I'm eighteen, Elena, I don't do truth or dare. And I'm sure as hell not some little brat's puppet. I won't kiss you because Adi asks me to, I wouldn't have done it for her. Doesn't mean I didn't want to though: you look stunning, if it isn't obvious. If you'd been any other girl, I would have you breathless by now. But. I. Care. And it's because I care that I can't be selfish with you. I'm not the guy for you Elena, so I'm letting you go."

Damon unlinked his fingers from hers, and slowly softened his hold on her other arm. With great self-control he reluctantly stepped back,_he_ _was doing the right thing._ Panic flashed briefly in Elena's already wide eyes, and in her refusal to break their unexpected connection, she closed the distance again, tentatively reaching out her hands to cup his jaw.

It was a foreign feeling to both her and him, Elena had never kissed a guy in her life and Damon was more certainly not used to hesitant and tender caresses. Never breaking the connection she had with his piercing blue eyes, Elena stood on her tiptoes. With one hand rested atop his broad shoulder and another still framing his jaw line, she touched her lips to his, reveling in the new sensation of adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Kissing Damon was like no other feeling in the world. Elena had heard about falling in love in so many movies and songs, but to actually feel the butterflies flutter in her stomach, experience that joyful bliss, was a whole other thing. "That was incredible," she whispered breathlessly, clutching Damon closer toward her, her fingers tightly holding onto his shirt.

Damon smiled at the adorable blush that embellished her cheeks, he leaned his forehead to hers. "It was," he whispered.

"Ahgm." A male throat was scraped behind them and when the young lovers looked up they saw a sturdy looking Senator rapidly climbing the luxurious staircase.

"Go inside, I'll handle it," Damon dismissed Elena with a quick whisper.

Elena stared at him in confusion, her eyes all worry and concern.

"It's ok," Damon insisted and after a meaningful nod, Elena scurried away back to her friends.

"No it is not," Senator Salvatore announced as his daughter's door slammed shut.

"Frankly father, I don't need your permission," Damon challenged, straightening his shirt.

"Pardon me?" Sir Salvatore uttered menacing.

"I don't obey commands from men who forget to inform their children they're dying," Damon informed his baffled father coldly, leaving the hallway before the man had recovered enough to respond.

**xXx**

**Depression**

_Well I tried to control it, and cover it up.__  
><em>I reached out to console it. It was never enough.<em>_

**xXx**

Of all the five stages of grief, some say the most persistent one is depression.  
>After we've denied.<br>And shouted.  
>And looked over all alternatives to no avail.<br>Sometimes the obvious conclusion is to refrain from speaking all together. _What's the use?_

Some of us shut the world out because friends need not know how dark it can get on that private little island in the back of our mind; while other's will disconnect from all that they love altogether, because they can't bear to stand love, if loving means the risk of losing at one point or another.

**xXx**

It was ten forty-five PM and Damon was pacing on the pavement in the drizzling rain. He craved the next stage, it was time to move on, time to break the silence, but he could not figure out how to close the distance between himself and the girl he'd once loved.

It's one of those parts people underestimate. It's not just hard to be gone and to mourn, it's equally hard to come back. It's difficult finding your place in a world that has continued to turn without you, people have moved on.

Sure, the day you cloaked yourself in solitude: you left a hole, perhaps even a big one. But people adapt quickly, and now you're ready to resume your position, that position appears to have ceased to exist. It takes time to have your island grow back onto the main land again.

That was Damon's main concern: how to ever close the distance between them. _Was that even possible? Or desirable? Could he risk that? Did he want to risk it? Damn, his mind was beginning to sound like a broken record. Less thinking and more acting, Salvatore._

After taking a deep breath, Damon stepped back into his car, before he could get himself to turn on the ignition, however, he reached for the phone in his front pocket.

_Now or never, now or never, now or never. Now._

His call was answered on the very first ring.  
>"Hi," a familiar warm voice greeted him.<br>"Hi."

Seconds ticked away without either of them saying a word.

In the end Elena was the first one to break the silence: "Damon, you have to know that I'm s-"

"No," he interjected instantly. "I mean: please don't," he corrected.

"Why?" Elena wondered slightly pained.

"Because I don't want to hear it," Damon calmly explained. His tone did not hold the usual malice, it was a statement, not a reproach.

"Then why did you call?" Elena inquired softly, refraining from allowing any accusation to seep into her words.

"Because I want change," Damon stated simply.

"Where would you like to start?" Elena questioned tentatively.

"I don't know," Damon managed after a long moment, before promptly disconnecting the call.

He bumped his head forcefully into the leather. _Dammit what was that?_Shaking his head from left to right he tried to erase the disillusioning conversation. _What the hell had that been? Formal detached bullshit? Where was that thing that had once been 'Damon and Elena'? Where was that magical connection, where was that golden bridge that had been such a given all those years ago._

Damon helplessly looked up at the stars and for the first time in long, he found tears prickling in his eyes. Tears of frustration this time. UNFAIR, his thoughts screamed at him. He'd been hurt and he had suffered and he'd still kept Elena at bay for a very long time, if there had been one thing keeping him from truly forgetting about her altogether these past few years, it was the fact that he'd always believed somewhere deep down, the two of them shared a profound connection. Something nothing could possibly compare to.

_Where the hell was that consolation prize when you needed it? Where was the much needed compensation he did not just need but evidently deserved for putting his heart on the line once again?_

Damon's hand came down heavy on his steering wheel, accidentally blowing his horn.

_Of course. If there had been any doubt before, now she most certainly knew he was there_. Irritated and angry, Damon got his phone out, dialing his best friend's number. "Be home in fifteen, make sure Sophie's asleep," Damon snapped angrily, before disconnecting the call without further ado.

**xXx**

_So I tried to forget it, it was all part of the show__  
><em>Told myself I'd regret it but what do I know?<em>_  
><strong>xXx<strong>

The little girl was happily sucking her thumb when Ric check up on her again, her father would be happy. Sophie had been exhausted lately, it was important she got enough sleep. Ric picked the fluffy red blanket up from on the floor, and folded it neatly, letting its softness caress his fingers.

And as he stared across the hallway while folding, he noticed that there was light seeping from underneath Damon's door. _Had his friend come home without him noticing_? Ric put the blanket down and decided to have a look. As he swung the door open wide, the bed did not reveal the blue-eyed Salvatore, on the contrary: half-hidden underneath the covers rested Winnie The Pooh, waiting for company.

Ric chuckled. _Of course_. It was only logical Sophie had picked up on the tension in the house, and Sophie would not be Sophie is she didn't insist on doing her part. Ric walked toward the pillow, shaking his head before picking up the plush toy, he'd put it back where it belonged in the little girl's bed.

Halfway across the room though, he changed his mind. Perhaps it wasn't his place? He pondered it for a moment. The little toy wasn't going to make his best friend's problems dissipate, but then again: was there anything that did? What made the toy less significant than his words or anyone else's. In the end the toy was merely a gesture.

_Hey. I'm taking a minute of my time to let you know I care.__  
><em>Hey. I'm taking a minute of my time to let you know I'm here<em>_.

How could anyone ever object to that?

**xXx**

When Damon strolled back in, barely three minutes later, his glass of bourbon was already waiting for him on the table.

"You know me well," Damon commented dryly, taking a long gulp and positioning himself on the arm of the sofa.

"What? No biting sarcasm? Must have really gone bad?" Ric joked, cupping his own tumbler.

"I don't feel anything. Nothing. Went to Elena's, heard her voice and… Nada. Magic's gone," Damon spoke ruefully, skipping the pleasantries altogether.

"Connections take time, Buddy. Rome wasn't built in a day." Ric shrugged.

"That's the point. We already took our time and we already built Rome," Damon complained, contorting his face into various exaggerated expressions to prove his point."

"Well euhm, in that case: Rome wasn't reconstructed in a day either," Ric smirked.

Damon huffed before throwing a pillow.

"She's changed, Ric, I've changed. I know there's this meet-me-halfway movement, but I'm not sure I can do that. She's on her island and I'm on mine and at this point I feel like whoever dives into the water first will die of hypothermia," Damon explained after downing his first glass.

"Good thing you're not a drama queen," Ric commented dryly.

"Shut up," Damon kindly offered.

"You know what I think?" Ric started.

"That it's Friday Night and you should get going and forget all about stalking employees? Epic plan!" Damon contributed sarcastically.

"Ha-ha. No, I think you just don't let yourself care. I think deep down you keep your distance because you're afraid to get attached again," Ric spoke confidently.

"Wow Sherlock. Epic work. And then to consider that some people believe you need to be a tampon-user for that kind of profound thinking." Damon stood up and clasped his friend's shoulder. "Seriously though, I wanna go to sleep."

"Fine. Avoid every meaningful conversation-"

"Exactly!" Damon interjected. "Happy to see you still catch my drift," he uttered a tat too exuberantly.

"One last piece of information: I did re-hire her."

"A Female Santa Claus?" Damon questioned hopefully.

Ric rolled his eyes, "I wish, Damon. I wish."

"Me too!" Damon voiced petulantly.

"She'll be working for me from now on, however, until you get a grip that is," Ric spoke with a hint of accusation.

"Me?" Damon demanded incredulously.

"Yeah: you. Or do you still plan of selling me on the whole 'I treated her like any other assistant' crap?" Ric inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Fine," Damon conceded, "But if she breaks your heart: don't come crying to me," Damon sing-songed.

"Rest assured, Buddy, I wasn't planning to make a move on her, girl-code and all," Ric winked.

"Pff, buy a tampon already," Damon mumbled, before showing his friend out and shutting the door.

**xXx**

Three weeks later

The calm had returned to Saltzman and partners. The company was doing well, the numbers were up and the projects appeared to be getting more prestigious by the week. Damon and Elena hadn't grown significantly closer but the previous hostility had lost some of its edge. Rather than seeking confrontation, the two had been successfully avoiding one another and that was working out just fine for both.

"Thank you for gathering," Ric's voice boomed loudly through the conference room. Elena leaned back against the cold wooden door, there were far too many people in the confined and overly heated room.

"I'm sorry we couldn't provide chairs for all of you, but this will only take a second," Ric apologized to the back of the room, where over seventeen people stood uncomfortably squeezed together in between the closets, the plant and some random furniture.

"The reason why I called you all together is because of the ABREV-project. We have four million dollar on the line there, it's crucial you're all up-to-date on the basic-"

The door in the back swung open, bumping hard against Elena's head. She reflexively reached for the sore spot, until she realized everyone was staring and refrained.

"_Nice_ of you to join us Mister Salvatore," Ric spoke through clenched teeth. He eyed Elena concerned as he saw his best friend involuntarily take place right by her side.

"As I was saying," Ric continued, "it's imperative you're all aware of our basic guidelines regarding that case."

Elena's head was pounding wildly and she hadn't been feeling that great to begin with. Unfortunately Damon was blocking access to the door now, leaning against it was no longer an option. She eyed the various chairs in the room. For just a moment she pondered asking someone if she could sit down, but she soon thought better of it. It was equally warm and uncomfortable for those other people, she simply had to wait it out. Perhaps someone on the other side would think to open a window or something, or maybe Damon would step away from the door in a minute and she could take his place.

"Please remember for the entire length of this project that it will be our number one priority, I do not care if other projects run a bit behind, we will find solutions to pick up the slack-"

Damon couldn't focus, not with Elena standing that close. He could practically feel her warmth. They were standing unusually close and it made him feel uncomfortable. _Was it ridiculously hot in the room or was that just him? And where had all the air gone? Wait. Elena. Elena fainted rather easily, was she alright?_

Almost reflexively Damon checked the color of her cheeks like he had one million times before. As expected her usual blush was nowhere to be found now and her face had turned ashen.

_Damn_. Damon shook his head. _Damn, damn_. He glanced at his colleagues. W_as anyone else paying attention? Someone had to help her, why hadn't anyone noticed her change in color?_ Ric seemed to rattle on and keep everyone entertained.

_Why was Elena still in that room, how come she hadn't stepped out yet? She knew she had low blood-pressure_. Damon glanced at the door. _Of course, he was blocking her path_. The second that fact sunk in, he stepped aside, granting her access.

Elena turned her head toward the exit and took a hesitant step. Damon searched for her eyes, but she appeared to look right through him. Elena wasn't even aware of his attention anymore, sounds faded into the background and all of a sudden her eyes lost vision, right before Damon's eyes.

He reached out his arm on instinct and supported her weight a second later. He turned her doorknob sideways and opened the door, guiding Elena outside. Hardly any of their colleagues even noticed their departure as they concentrated on Ric's speech.

"Easy," Damon spoke softly. He'd swung Elena's arm over his shoulder and held her tightly as they inched toward his office. "You're ok, we're almost there, a few more inches and you can lay down," Damon promised, suddenly grateful that his office was right next to the conference room.

A lone colleague peeked his head around the corner, "Need help?"

"No, I've got her," Damon replied.

The blue eyed Salvatore pushed the door open with his foot, as he escorted Elena to the sofa by the wall. With great care he lay her down, taking off her boots and lifting her feet on top of the side. "There you go," he whispered. On second thought he put one more pillow in between her legs and the sofa, the blood needed to flow back down.

Next he closed the blinds and opened the window and suddenly there was nothing more to do, except wait for her to regain color. Fifty seconds went by, fifty long second for Damon to care for the fragile and mesmerizing girl that still haunted many of his dreams. He couldn't help tucking a loose stand of hair behind her ear as she recovered. Taking care of her wasn't optional, it felt more like second nature.

Elena's eyelids fluttered open and slightly disoriented she scanned the room. "What happened? Where am I? Why-, Damon?" she questioned surprised, and slightly panicked. She tried to sit up but instantly felt lightheaded because of the abrupt movement.

"Wouldn't try that yet if I were you," Damon joked. "You fainted, but you're fine now," he promised. There was only care and kindness in his voice as he offered her a glass of water.

"Oh! The meeting!" Elena remembered. "Ric said it was-"

"You have a decent excuse, trust me, he won't mind," Damon reassured her. He knew how she felt about responsibilities, she wasn't one to disobey orders.

"I should have taken a proper breakfast along with me this morning. I was supposed to be taking notes!" A frown appeared on Elena's forehead.

"Hey, it's not your fault you fainted. It was far too warm in there," Damon supplied.

"Hmm." Elena slowly rose to her feet, putting her shoes on again before making her way toward the door.

"Thanks for euhm-, well thank you. I'm going to let you get back to work. Sorry for the inconvenience," Elena mumbled slightly embarrassed.

"Elena… it's alright. You can sit down a little longer if you want to. Let me go get you some crackers from the kitchen," Damon suggested, still feeling that same need to make sure she was alright.

"It's fine, I'll get them. Thanks though." Elena rushed out quickly, before Damon could interject.

**xXx**

It was eight PM when Elena parked her car onto the gravel. Her fingers were playing with the hem of her shirt. Fumbling. Fidgeting. _This was not a good idea_.

Hesitantly, she stepped out of the car, almost tripping over some plants by the side of the driveway. She adjusted her posture and tried walking a little straighter. _There. Of course she could do it_.

For a moment she tried to check her appearance in the shiny reflection of her car. Not that it was any use, the distorted figure that stared back, definitely wasn't her. She weighed the cookies in her right hand again, perfect, not too many, but still enough. _Perhaps she should take one to settle that nervous feeling in her stomach._

_Why had she even baked cookies? And why was she here delivering them. What had changed? Had anything changed? Would her presence be an intrusion? Was she an unwanted visitor. Was there even anyone home?_

Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for the doorbell. Now or never, now or never, now or never. Now. She pressed.

Exactly forty seconds later an exuberant little girl swung the door wide open. "Elena!" she announced enthusiastically. "Good evening," her father added, he'd only been two steps behind.

For a second Elena appeared to be frozen on the spot, until she remembered the purpose of her visit. "I made cookies," she spoke, her voice warm though a bit unsure. Tentatively she reached out her hand toward Damon, handing him the cookies before taking a step back.

"Thanks. For today," Elena added, eying him briefly, before looking at Sophie's radiant smile.

"You're welcome," Damon told her, "And thank you for the cookies." He handed the package to Sophie, and just like Elena, he couldn't help enjoying the little girl's enthusiasm. "I think this one's up for a visitor," Damon pondered, putting his hand on his daughter's shoulder, "Would you like to come in?"

**xXx****  
><strong>xXx<strong>**

There are five stages of grief. They might not all last equally long in every case, or be equally elaborate, but there are always five. Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. **Acceptance**. No matter what the journey's like: in the end there will be a point where we find some kind of peace, even if we can't pinpoint the exact moment when things started 'looking up again'.

In the end, we might not be able to forgive and forget everything we've been through, but we do find a way to move on.

We climb that mountain.  
>We float to the surface again.<br>We will see that sun rise and we will know that somehow we survived.  
>A brand new day with brand new possibilities.<br>_Wonderful? Isn't it?_

**xXx**

_So come let me take this through the end__  
><em>of all these useless dreams of living<em>  
><em>So come let me in…<em>_

_**xXx**_


	8. My immortal

**_Previously_**_: "Thanks. For today," Elena added, eying him briefly, before looking at Sophie's radiant smile._

_"You're welcome," Damon told her, "And thank you for the cookies." He handed the package to Sophie, and just like Elena, he couldn't help enjoying the little girl's enthusiasm. "I think this one's up for a visitor," Damon pondered, putting his hand on his daughter's shoulder, "Would you like to come in?"_

Elena's eyes broke contact with Sophie's for a second, on one hand she truly wanted to come in and have a real conversation with Damon, for once, but on the other hand she was anxious. _What if her good intentions backfired?_

"Are you sure it's alright?" stressed Elena, a nervous frown making its way onto her forehead.

"Should I believe you really came _all_ the way here just to drop off cookies then?" joked Damon, raising his eyebrow. "Because if that's the case…"

Elena only smiled wryly, they weren't back to effortless humor yet and she didn't quite know how to respond.

"Just kidding," Damon added quickly, upon seeing her distress, "Please, come in."

"Yeah, please come in!" Sophie repeated.

Her father eyed his watch. "Isn't it bedtime for you yet, young Lady?" he wondered out loud.

The little girl's face fell instantly and her smile contorted into a somber pout, "But Daddy-"

Sophie couldn't really find the words, but her wide eyes spoke volumes. It had been obvious from the start that the little girl vastly looked up to Elena. Denying her the chance to spend some time with her newfound friend would hurt his little girl. Damon knew that all too well.

"Fine, just go put your pajamas on really quickly, then I'll see if we can let you stay a little while longer," he promised.

Sophie nodded eagerly before racing up the stairs. Damon couldn't help but smile, it clearly meant a lot to his five-year-old to have some female company around. _He'd known Elena was up for talking to his little girl. Why hadn't he facilitated a conversation sooner?_ Then it dawned on him again. _Right_.

Elena visibly stiffened as she saw his demeanor change. Suddenly that warm, comfortable smile of his was nowhere to be found.

"Elena, you can't-" Damon started. _Can't what?_ Can't braid her hair, can't be nice to her, can't make her grow fond of you? _Can't what? _'Damon couldn't find the way to put his thoughts into words and neither could Elena, although she nodded. She knew exactly what he meant.

A part of her wanted to scream, however. Scream or cry or do anything to finally make him understand that hurting him had never been part of the plan. It was not something she had ever intended. _Period_. She was not that kind of person. _Period_.

What had happened, had happened. There was no denying that of course. But their rocky break-up had never been _a 'choice'_ of hers, nor had it been a conscious decision. On the contrary, it was the perfect example of forced decision-making: take the bad option instead of risking one even worse. It had been a case of 'stop the bleeding at all costs'. The infection that had been a direct result of her sloppy and inexperienced handy work, was something she'd always regretted. Still, Elena cherished the silent hope that Damon would see the facts for what they were one day. That he could open his eyes for the big picture just once. _Perhaps tonight could be that night_, Elena couldn't help but wish.

Instead of finishing the words that had died in silence, Elena simply met his blue orbs with pleading brown ones. Doe eyes that conveyed openness and sincerity, no hidden agenda, and no cards up her sleeve.

Damon almost stomped his foot on the hard wooden floor as he gathered that his mind refused to question her intentions. _What about rational thinking? What about the past?_

"One chance," Elena managed, barely above a whisper.

Damon tried to keep his composure, to reign all his emotions in while uttering a convinced, yet strict: "One chance." It didn't work, however, and instead of sounding like the high school Principle, the yearning in the repeated words sounded more like the musing on a naïve schoolboy.

"I'm changed!" exclaimed Sophie proudly, taking Elena's hand in hers and then clasping her father's. "Let's move to the sofa!" she suggested joyfully, dragging the two adults along.

As soon as her father sat down, the little girl instantly nestled herself in his lap, grabbing a blanket. Then she grabbed hold of her young cat and practically tossed it to Elena. _Poor Tiger_.

"Soph! Careful!" admonished Damon.

"Sorry," Sophie drew. "I just thought Elena might want someone too, since I'm sitting with you…" she explained.

"How considerate." Elena smiled.

"Oh. Wait. Are you thirsty? Did you ask, Daddy? Aunt Caroline says you always have to ask people if they want a drink when they come visit!"

Elena shifted uncomfortably on the sofa and Damon shook his head. Gone was the blanket and the little bundle of exuberance on his lap, as Sophie rapidly skipped to the kitchen to fetch a plastic cup and some water from the tap. Damon felt sorry seeing Elena's guilty expression, as they heard his daughter pushing her stepstool toward the sink.

"You know what?" started Damon, "If we're trying, then we're trying. Period. No judgment tonight, we'll just… try," spoke Damon.

Elena responded with a grateful nod, trying to push through the awkwardness. "How's Caroline?" she inquired softly, eyes slightly anxious as she gauged his expression.

"She's abroad with her husband, over the moon and hopelessly in love of course, you know Care," Damon rolled his eyes.

"You know Auntie Care?" Sophie wanted to know as she arrived with the water. She mumbled a quick apology, after spilling a bit of it on Elena's dress, when handing it over. "Don't apologize, it'll dry," Elena reassured Sophie warmly.

Upon seeing his little girl's delighted expression, Damon answered her question himself. "They were best friends in high school," he informed his daughter with a small smile.

Sophie beamed up at Elena, Damon had known she would. Ever since her mother had left, Sophie had been clinging increasingly to Caroline, a connection between Elena and his sister, would only make Sophie respect Elena more.

"Auntie Caroline is Daddy's sister," Sophie explained to Elena. _You don't say._ Both adults chuckled simultaneously. "But they don't look anything alike," the little girl added.

"Oh I think they do," Elena responded spontaneously. "They're both very driven and protective of the ones they love," she insisted, only vaguely aware of the interest with which Damon was listening.

"What's driven?" questioned Sophie.

"Driven is that you know what you want and you go after it," explained Elena.

"Grandpa says that a lot…" mused Sophie, "_You should know what you want_," she imitated in a low voice.

Elena chuckled. "Yes, your grandpa is definitely the kind of man who's driven," she agreed.

"You know grandpa?" Sophie asked surprised.

Elena's demeanor suddenly changed. Restraightening her dress unconsciously, she turned to Damon, who eyed her apprehensively in turn. _Had she spoken out of turn?_

**xXx**

Eleven years ago

"He lied to me! He lied to me. He's lying to Caroline. He's lying to everyone!" exclaimed Damon exasperated, hands waving frantically through wide open space to make his point.

"Like we're nothing. Like we don't have the right to know anything. Like he doesn't trust us, at all. It's so-" Damon took a random stick and threw it away, as far into the woods as it would go. It splintered into pieces as it hit a tree on its course.

"I hate it! I hate what he's become. The people in politics… they stop being people. They turn into monsters and they don't-, they don't see what's important anymore. I mean Dad, he's just being blind-"

A few insects crept to safety as Damon lifted a heavier branch, snapped off its twigs and threw it even further away than he had managed to throw the stick.

"He's not my dad like this! I don't recognize him. That man with all his fancy ties and interviews… he'd not the father that raised me," Damon ranted.

Elena nodded in understanding, but she didn't say a word. She knew by now that it was no use. First and foremost because her boyfriend didn't mean half of the words he was saying and secondly because he was simply stressed out and anxious lately. All she could do was be there for him.

As Damon appeared to have calmed down a bit, Elena moved to stand behind the fallen trunk he'd taken place on. Tenderly, she ran her fingers through his raven hair until he gave a soft hum of contentment. _There_. _Already slightly better_.

"You know that if you'd like to talk about it-" she tried.

"Elena, you know I can't tell you…" Damon instantly interjected.

"I do. I get it. It's not right for me to know if Caroline doesn't know… but still, Damon, if you need to talk about it, then maybe you could… I don't know: think of a metaphor or something?" suggested Elena.

Her boyfriend chuckled dryly, "I appreciate the effort, Baby, I really do, but those are more your thing and I don't think one would apply here," Damon offered delicately.

"Ok," Elena conceded.

"Since we're talking about family, however, how are things going with your parents lately?" Damon inquired gently, pulling his girlfriend onto his lap.

Elena allowed him to hold her close for a second before responding. "Still separate rooms," she mused ruefully, "they're not even talking."

"They're not?" inquired Damon surprised. The Gilbert family had always seemed such a strong and connected family to him. He had a hard time believing that such a warm and considerate family could experience such troubles. "Do you know what happened yet?" he questioned.

Elena's face fell and Damon instantly regretted his question as he saw tears brimming in her eyes. "Well-," she stammered, "yesterday after school I was standing in line at the pastry shop and Liv from Mom's work, she-," Elena paused before getting it together again, "-she said my Father's cheated on Mom," Elena managed softly, before her voice trailed off.

Warm teardrops trailed down Damon's skin as Elena hid her face in his neck. He held her closely, cradling her into his arms until the sobs died down. In that moment he just knew, knew that he always wanted to be that person for her. The one to hold her, the one she would run to. He was her protector, her white knight, and she, in turn, was his princess, his to cherish and love. Always and forever, 'til kingdom come.

**xXx**

_When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears  
>When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears<br>I held your hand through all of these years  
>But you still have all of me<em>

**xXx**

Present Day

"Yes Sophie," replied Damon, giving Elena a reassuring nod. He wasn't going to snap at her. Not tonight. If Elena wanted one normal night to talk and have an honest conversation, then he could manage that. He had to. The way they'd been pushing each other's buttons wasn't healthy anymore, something had to change. Furthermore, if he was being truly honest with himself, he had to admit that he needed one of those nights too. A simple night without complications, with someone other than Ric. That was all he was asking.

"Elena and aunt Caroline went to high school together. They were best friends, so when they were kids they had a lot of sleepovers. Sometimes aunt Caroline would stay over at Elena's, and sometimes Elena would come to us, to your grandparent's house," Damon clarified.

"So you _knew_ Elena?" spoke Sophie, stressing the verb in her sentence as if this was the revelation of a lifetime.

"Hm," her father confirmed.

His little girl crossed her arms. "That must have been so much fun," she spoke ruefully. "You… and Elena… and aunt Caroline… I bet you played a lot of Monopoly," mused Sophie.

"Oh not just Monopoly," he father remarked dryly. Elena's skin tingled slightly at the memory of their post-truth-or-dare make-out session.

"Is that why you and Daddy work together? Because you were friends?" Sophie concluded logically and innocently.

"Euhm, no," Elena replied honestly, "Your Dad and I hadn't talked in a while when I took the job," she explained.

Sophie eyed her father confused. "We grew apart, Sweetheart, we didn't see each other again after high school," Damon informed his little girl, giving her the most civil and euphemistic version of events he'd ever given anyone regarding his and Elena's past.

"Why?" asked Sophie, not understanding any of it.

Damon had expected Elena's big doe eyes searching his for help, but instead, she surprised him by replying herself.

She looked down, one hand almost compulsively straightening out the other one as she spoke: "We had a fight and I was wrong," she admitted.

Of course that caught Sophie's attention and as she shifted all the way to the edge of her father's lap, she predictably wondered, "What happened?"

"I did a bad thing," Elena started, refusing to meet anyone's eyes as she concentrated on phrasing an explanation that would satisfy both Sophie and her father, "I did a bad thing to aunt Caroline and to your father as well," Elena admitted guilty.

"What did you do then?" Sophie inquired, not at all aware of the sensitivity of the matter at hand.

"It was a long time ago," Elena started, "I was still in high school-"

"Elena, you don't _have to_…" Damon interrupted, finding it unexpectedly hard and uncomfortable to see his ex-girlfriend in agony over the story which he, himself, had repeatedly used to torment her.

"She can know," Elena replied curtly, before continuing. "As I was saying: I was still in high school when it all went down, and your dad and I were pretty close back then," she started, avoiding piercing blue eyes.

"And then one day, a really bad person showed up and they wanted to hurt your Dad and your Granddad, and ultimately… they used me to do it…"

**xXx**

Eleven years ago

_"Damon… what happened?" the familiar warm voice all but breathed in his ear. He cursed himself for his concerned eyes, his tapping foot and his nervous demeanor. He wasn't _that _guy, the guy who needed a shoulder to cry on or someone to talk to. It was all bullshit. Problems didn't magically vanish into thin air simply by talking about them._

_That was the problem with dating women. Young. Mature. Naïve or educated. If there was one thing they all had in common, it was the fact that any one of them could spot emotions from a mile away. Drama. _Alert_. Sometimes he felt like they had a sixth sense for that kind of thing._

_"Damon, are you ok?" Elena tried gingerly, instinctively sensing his distress._

_"No," Damon replied, deciding honesty might be the best approach after all._

_"Do you want to talk about it?" Elena asked softly._

_"No," Damon retorted, equally swift, pulling her in his lap as he spoke the words to avoid hurting her feelings._

_"Damon…" Elena drew._

_"Elena, I'm a man, remember? The sex that generally says what they mean instead of the exact opposite. I'm simple that way. When I say 'No', I honestly mean, 'No, let's NOT discuss it.'," Damon insisted._

_"But I _want _to know," Elena pressed. "You've been acting strange all week and I-, I-"_

_To be young. In love and insecure… A deep sigh escaped Damon's lips._

_"It has nothing to do with you, Elena, honestly. I've just been having a hard week, that's all," Damon tried to reassure her._

_Suddenly the sound of a snapping twig caught his attention and he moved to sit next to Elena, their skin no longer touching._

_"You're doing it again!" Elena accused. "You've been avoiding me all week… First you won't kiss me, then you don't want to be seen with me around school, now you can't even touch me. If we're over then just tell me!" Elena snapped emotionally._

_Again. To be young. In love. And insecure. Damon thought._

_His cautious and focused stare softened and he tenderly grabbed hold of his girlfriend's hand. "If I tell you, then that's it, alright? You do not get to worry about _my _problems, or undertake any actions to fight _my _battles. If I tell you, then that's where our conversation stops. You'll let it go and let me handle it. Understood?" Damon questioned seriously._

_Elena hesitated for a moment but realized she had no option but to take the offer. "Fine," she conceded._

_"They know." Damon replied simply._

_Elena's eyes widened in horror. "But they don't even _know _me!" Elena exclaimed. "And we haven't-, we-" she stammered._

_"It doesn't matter, Elena, people create their own truth. It's not about the facts, but about the way people interpret them. He who writes the story holds the power…" Damon's voice trailed off._

_"They can't do that! We didn't do anything wrong!" Elena insisted._

_"They have pictures," Damon admitted softly, "We've been followed. I found them today in the mailbox," he added ruefully._

_"They can't do that! It's not fair. We. Didn't. Do. Anything. I mean, why are we even being cautious and patient if it doesn't matter in the end?!" Elena spat out angrily._

_"Because you _deserve _cautious and patient…" Damon whispered, calming her down and breaking the anxious haze for a moment. It grounded Elena enough to clear her mind._

_"What did your father say?" Elena asked gingerly, eyes tormented and apologetic._

_"My father loves you, he doesn't blame you. He doesn't blame me either, he's just… trying to find us a way out of this. If those pictures are leaked to the press…"_

_"Maybe we should-"_

_"No. We will not be intimidated. I've considered all the options and I've made my decision," Damon interrupted her, trying to sound determined. He knew she heard his voice waver, though, heard the silent fear seeping in. She knew he couldn't lose her, because those melted eyes of hers saw right through him._

_"How bad can this get? I mean… what do they want? Money? A vote?" Elena wondered uneasily, already knowing she wouldn't like the answer._

_"They want my father to withdraw his bid for re-election," Damon voiced softly._

_"Or else?" Elena dared to ask, but only barely above a whisper._

_"Or else they're threatening to have me charged with statutory rape," Damon managed around the lump in his throat._

_"Jail?" Elena shrieked panicked._

_Damon nodded._

_Tears sprang freshly in Elena's eyes and she shook her head mechanically from left to right, seemingly in trance. "But we didn't and it's not fair and…"_

_"And they have pictures from the night in your room, pictures that include me barely clad and you-, well you were there, you remember…"_

_"No!" Elena exclaimed. "They can't do that!"_

_"Well apparently they can."_

_"And what about Mister Delors? He'll never agree with your father bowing out. He has to have some kind of plan, right?" Elena inquired, slightly delirious._

_Damon looked down at twigs beneath their feet. He didn't say a word, but he'd never been that good of an actor to begin with._

_"He has, hasn't he? Please tell me! If there's a plan you have to tell me!" Elena stressed._

_"No." Damon denied determined._

_"Yes." Elena bit back almost angrily, she wasn't taking no for an answer. If anyone had a way out of the coercion, she demanded to know how._

_"Baby, it's not one I'm willing to consider," Damon told her firmly._

_"Well, if the choice is one between your father giving up his entire career or you risking jail, I think you have to be plain stupid not to look for a plan C!" Elena all but yelled._

_Over the course of the prior three months, she'd gotten to know the Senator better. Gotten to know him as an intelligent, yet open man. He knew she loved his son, and he knew she was too young, still Elena could see the joy in his eyes whenever Giuseppe caught his son smiling up at her._

_ The man fervently loved his family and Elena respected that about him. Plus as an added bonus, Giuseppe Salvatore was one of those politicians that had never cheated on his wife. Not even once. Nor had he ever been wrapped up in any kind of scandal regarding indecency, which was unfortunately becoming increasingly more rare within his party. And that too, was one of those things Elena couldn't help but love about him._

_She gravely admired him, often considering that Mr. Salvatore was the very like Senator with any sense of integrity. Perhaps it was also because of her own father's escapades, that she felt all the more close to Giuseppe and his family._

_Yet Giuseppe's career wasn't the only one at stake. Damon in jail… That was an idea that frightened her even more. How could her sweet and loving boyfriend possibly end up doing time for a crime he did not commit? And why would it even be so wrong, she knew what she was doing and so did Damon, how could that ever be wrong?_

_"Damon," Elena tried again, her voice softer this time as she nestled herself in his lap._

_Damon gave her a pained look._

_"Please," she all but pleaded._

_"Delors wants to use you." Damon spat out the words as if they were acid. "But it doesn't matter, I won't let him and neither will my father!" Damon spoke defiantly._

_"Use me how?" Elena asked confused._

_"They want to use you in the press." Damon scoffed, "It would 'contain the issue'," Damon air quoted._

_"But how," Elena stressed._

_"They want to write you a speech, in which you tell the media how you used me, seduced me. The ruse they came up with had something to do with your father's business, I don't even understand half of it. But it's despicable!" Damon dismissed the plan._

_"But I can do that! Don't you see that Damon? I could totally pull it off! And then you would be safe and your father could run, and perhaps he'd be even be more popular, it could totally work!" Elena argued, happy with the alternative._

_"No!" Damon objected, taking her chin in his hand to have her face him. "NO. No. **No**. No. No! Did I mention: no!" he huffed. "You're 15, you don't get it, but if you do that, then it will follow you everywhere for the rest of your career. You won't ever be remembered for your writing, or your work, all people will remember is that you were the girl who tried to sleep with the Senator's son!" Damon snapped._

_"Well if that means we can be together then I. Don't. Care." Elena challenged._

_"God, your naïve!" Damon exclaimed exasperated. "You really don't understand it, do you?" he demanded. "If you speak up and tell them some lie about deceiving me, then that means that we can never ever be seen together again. No more hugs, no more talking, no more anything!"_

_"Do you have a better plan then?" Elena bit back._

_"Yes." Damon spoke determined. "The truth," he added. "We did not sleep together: we didn't do ANYTHING wrong!" he exclaimed, his voice one pitch too high._

_Elena was silent. She didn't know how to reply. Damon would not back down, she understood that much, but allowing him to risk prison was not something she could handle._

_The pair stared into the distance for a long while before either of them spoke again._

_"I'm afraid, Damon," Elena whispered, hiding her face in the crook of his neck once again._

_"Don't be. We will be ok," Damon insisted, kissing the top of her head before going for her lips._

_He didn't see the rueful smile flashing by, before Elena wrapped her arms around him once more, closer than ever. Her fingers threaded in his hair and one final time, she gave her all, because contrary to Damon she knew. True love's kiss wasn't going to save them this time, they needed a miracle. And one should never forget: all magic comes with a price…_

_**xXx**_

**_xXx_**

_And if you have to leave__  
><em>_I wish that you would just leave__  
><em>_your presence still lingers here__  
><em>_And it won't leave me alone_

**xXx**

Present day

"And then one day, some really bad people showed up and they wanted to hurt your Dad and your Granddad, and ultimately… they wanted to use me to do it…"

Elena's words lingered in the dimly lit room for quite some time before anyone spoke again.

"So, you fought off the bad guys, right?" Sophie insisted. There was no instant reply. "Daddy?"

His daughter's voice broke him out of reverie, and as the responsible adult he didn't have the luxury to falter or take a beat when needed. The fact that Damon was struggling did not escape Elena, she still knew him all too well.

"Sophie, I think Tiger is tired. Will you show me where we can put him to bed?" Elena wondered.

"Sure!" she little girl replied, oblivious to her father's state of mind as she hopped off his lap. "Follow me!" she ordered happily, leading Elena to the kitchen.

"Whoa, that's one beautiful pillow," Elena commented as she put Tiger down on the fluffy pink fabric.

"I know!" Sophie contributed, beaming up at Elena. "I have one in my room too. Would you like to see it?"

A big part of Elena simply wanted to say yes, but then she remembered the fragile state of her new connection with Damon. Nosing about in the bedrooms upstairs might not be a great plan, especially since chances were that the little girl's room would contain pictures of her mother and those conversations were a minefield Elena still preferred to evade.

"How about we make you some Hot Chocolate first? You liked that the other day, didn't you?" Elena inquired.

When Sophie nodded, she took a three some cups and filled them with milk so they could be put into the microwave, they would add the powder later.

The two girls drank their milk in a few long gulps, laughing about their milk moustaches. After putting their cups back into the sink, Elena carried Damon's cup to the living room.

"Daddy, we made you Hot Chocolate," Sophie informed him with a smile as her father accepted the cup. She attempted to crawl on top of her father's lap but he stopped her. "Wait a second Sweetheart, or you're going to make me spill it," he explained.

His little girl didn't mind, however. Wordlessly she crawled over to the other side of the sofa. "Can I sit on your lap?" she asked sweetly, looking straight into Elena's eyes.

"Of course you can," Elena instantly replied, helping the five-year-old.

"I like you…" Sophie noted absentmindedly.

"Well, I like you too Sweetie. I really do."

That was not according to plan. And it was not how things were supposed to be. But Damon couldn't keep himself from watching his daughter snuggle against the girl he'd once loved. It was everything. And against the odds he caught himself wishing it was real.

**_xXx_**

your presence still lingers here  
>And it won't leave me alone<p>

**_xXx_**


	9. Youth

**Sorry for that hurricane of spelling errors in chapter 8! As a result: this is the first one in ages that I finished in time to be proofread. Well, half of it anyhow, we all know how epic my planning skills are. (sarcasm) (Thank you Jade and Martina for correcting the worst spelled chapter so far!)**

**Reviews have been awesome lately, it thrills me week after week to see who commented and what you thought :). This flashback chapter will give you the missing pieces, which has curious who's side you'll pick afterwards.**

**xXx**

Love is everything. Love is a reason to live. But however strong love may be, it's equally fragile. If one does not take care of it, nurture and feed it, it might not survive.  
>Love is like a child, it grows and it cannot be neglected.<p>

We build a foundation upon trust and memories. We maintain love with understanding, care and forgiveness. We build it brick by brick, with mutual effort and consideration.  
>But what if we turn our backs for one moment too long and those walls we've constructed come crumbling down. What if the damage is no longer fixable with a drop of new paint?<br>What if one day we'll face the ruins of a house that's been declared 'uninhabitable'?

Will you demolish?  
>Or will you reconstruct?<br>And above all: who's to pay that price?

**xXx**_  
><em>_"Destroy the middle, it's a waste of time.  
>From the perfect start to the finish line."<em>

**xXx**

"She's a wonderful little girl, Damon. You did well," Elena wholeheartedly praised him as the tired father slumped into the sofa next to her. He was exhausted. Putting his daughter to sleep was never the easiest part of the day. And having her excited over their visitor, on top of everything else, most certainly hadn't made it easier.

"I just hope she actually goes to sleep this time, my 'wonderful little girl' has a tendency of drawing bedtime out," he commented, adjusting his posture so the top of the stairs remained in his peripheral vision.

"Well, what child likes bedtime? You definitely never did!" replied Elena. "Over the years I've lost count of how many times I ran into you after twelve. Or the times I caught you coming in through the window, pretty sure that's quite a remarkable number too." She chuckled quietly.

Damon smiled tightly. "Let's say that I hope she doesn't take after either of her parents. I can do without the levels of anxiety that would put me through!" Damon mused out loud.

"Oh, you weren't so bad," retorted Elena. "Life just wasn't that simple for you and Care," she added.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Damon instantly got defensive.

"Nothing. Nothing bad. I just meant that you two had to take care of yourselves from a rather young age. With your father up in High Politics and your mom hosting all those society events, it was only natural that you and Caroline grew up to be quite independent. I don't remember your parents being home that often… It's not so weird you acted out. That's all," Elena replied in a small voice. Her shy tone in sharp contrast with the words she uttered.

"My father may have had a busy job, but he _was_ _actually there_ when I needed him," Damon reminded her, the meaningful look he gave her matching the silent accusation in his words. He couldn't help himself, it was the truth after all…

**xXx**

Eleven years ago

"No, Damon, you do not 'already know what I'm going to say'. So why don't you sit down and hold your tongue for a moment. Can you manage that or is it not within the realm of your capabilities, Boy?" Giuseppe inquired strictly.

A reluctant Damon rolled his eyes and sank into the plush chair of the Senator's office.

"So?" demanded Damon, challenging his father's authority yet again.

"So I was planning to lecture you on the drinking and the drugs, not to mention: you sneaking out of our house at 4 AM like a criminal… But since we only have one hour, I decided to skip that part of our conversation." Giuseppe comfortably leaned his back against the expensive desk, his features relaxing as his tone grew warmer.

Honestly, I have no intention of fighting once more, Damon. What I'd really like to know, however, is why your school results and your reputation have ceased to matter to you," his father started, surprising Damon.

"They have not," he muttered.

"Is it the young girl you've been dating? Caroline's friend?" Giuseppe inquired, knowing he'd strike a nerve that way.

"No!" Damon instantly replied. "Of course not! If anything she's an incentive to change, father!" he rushed out.

"Well, that is what I told you mother, but lately you've had me doubting that. Need I explain to you the nature of the consequences if you prove me wrong?" he inquired.

Damon's eyes went wide with disbelief. "What?" he demanded. "I thought you-"

"- that I think you should not publicly date a fifteen-year old? Well, of course I do. But you've been missing something in your life, Damon. In all these years I've been watching you. I've never seen you have a friend, a true friend, someone who would be there for you through anything. Regardless of what your mother thinks, I can see Elena being that person for you." Giuseppe told his bewildered son calmly. "Therefore, I don't think she's a bad influence."

"I don't understand…" Damon murmured, slightly uncomfortable as he lost every grasp on the conversation. _Was this a new tactic of his father's? Was he being serious? Or was it a side-effect from the cancer medication?_

"I gained some perspective, Damon. There is no need for you to understand. All I'd like for you to know is that you should take this opportunity to turn your life around," spoke Giuseppe.

"Does that mean I can date her?" Damon asked confused.

"Well, you _have_ been dating her, haven't you?" Giuseppe eyed his son, glancing beneath his glasses. "And I believe we should grant you more opportunities to meet up with her, in our house of course, so the official story will always be that she's visiting Caroline. Furthermore I expect you to keep your door unlocked at all times, I believe that speaks for itself. But apart from that, I take no issue with the two of you having an emotional connection," concluded Giuseppe.

"And Mom?" Damon inquired.

"Your mother has not changed her mind on the matter, plus her plate has been rather full," Giuseppe spoke ruefully, pointing at the small tube that was temporarily pumping medication into the catheter hiding underneath his shirt. "In regard to that, I also expect you to understand that neither Elena, nor Caroline, are to know about my little… predicament," Giuseppe informed him, eying him meaningfully.

"Predicament? Father, you can't-"

"-keep this from Caroline forever, I know that too Damon, thank you for reminding me though," Giuseppe commented sarcastically.

"Let's not forget that your sister has exams now, we have a campaign to run and I would like for this Christmas to be as perfect as it can be. I _will_ tell your sister. If this treatment turns out to be ineffective, then I _will_ tell your sister. But until then I would like to enjoy her carefree spirit a little while longer. This Sunday perhaps, I think we should all have dinner together. Would you like to invite Elena too?" Giuseppe inquired politely.

"Father, I-" Damon swallowed. It was hard for him seeing his father suffer. On top of that, there never seemed to be a time when he could process what was happening. And Damon cared, he loved his father. Yet uttering those words never appeared to be convenient either.

"A yes or no answer will do, Son. Would you like for Caroline to invite Elena?" Giuseppe questioned once again.

"Yes," mumbled Damon.

"Good. You're dismissed then," Giuseppe offered, touching his son's shoulder lightly. His eighteen-year-old, however, stepped in, much to his father's surprise. Before Giuseppe even realized what was happening he felt his son's arms constrict around him. "Please don't die, Dad," Damon whispered against his father's freshly ironed shirt.

"I'll try, my boy," Giuseppe whispered back, before he was left alone in his office again.

**xXx**

"And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones.  
>'Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs."<p>

**_xXx_**

Present Day

_"My father may have had a busy job, but he was actually there was I needed him."_

The words appeared to echo through the room, slowly settling underneath both their skins.

Damon didn't miss the hurt in Elena's eyes as they accidentally slipped into his line of vision.  
>Elena, in turn, saw that same pain reflect in his.<p>

Still they both knew, both remembered that the statement had once been untrue. At one point in history, they _had_ been there for one another. And the fact that they'd made a difference in the each other's life, was something that could never be denied…

**xXx**

Eleven years ago

"Damon?"

Elena's senses switched to high alert as she heard what could be perceived as a sob, resounding softly from behind her. Damon was holding her. Tightly. He had his arms wrapped around her, pressing her back into his chest. It gave him comfort.

They were standing in front of the window. The curtain was closed, no reflection. And Damon was being unusually quiet.

"Damon?" Elena called again, her voice even softer than before.

No reply came, so she tried turning around in his arms.  
>Except she tried to no avail, her boyfriend didn't even budge.<p>

"Damon?"

Another sob. This time it could no longer be denied. He was crying and she'd heard. Heard the soft sounds unmistakably slip from between his lips. It had been predictable, in a way, with his lips that close to her ear. He silently cursed himself. And he held her. Tightly.

Elena knew not to push. She knew he hated crying in front of her. A deep breath escaped her lips bit by bit. _No sighing_.

Carefully, she brought her fingers to his, intertwining them where they met below her ribcage. Her thumb tenderly stroked the back of his hand as they stayed connected. This was something she _could_ do.

It ached. Elena's heart ached. She yearned to turn around and hold him, wrap him up in her arms until his cries died down. She could comfort him, she knew she could. And she wanted to. But this was one of those times where what she wanted was not the most important thing. It wasn't her right to decide when Damon needed to allow her in.

He was in pain. He was struggling. Nonetheless: if her not seeing him cry would make it more bearable for him, then that was exactly what would happen.

The fingers of Elena's right hand tentatively unlocked from his and trailed up his upper arms. He was wearing a T-shirt. His skin was bare. Until she tenderly covered it with the palm of her hand, holding onto him. Tightly.

They stayed like that for a while, connected. Damon put his chin on top of her head as he regained control over his breathing.

"I can't bear to ever lose you," he spoke pained. There was no denying that statement any longer.

"You won't," Elena replied wholeheartedly. And she meant it. Wrapped up in his arms, she couldn't think of one statement more true.

**_xXx_**_  
>"We're setting fire to our insides… for fun.<br>Collecting names of the lovers that went wrong."_

**xXx**

It was over two hours later by the time the young couple retreated upstairs. Elena hesitated for a moment as Damon closed his bedroom door.

"Damon," Elena warned nervously.

"Father is out for the night, Mom too, and Care's watching a movie, it's fine," Damon insisted, he allowed himself to fall backwards onto his bed and pulled Elena along as he went. She giggled softly.

His lips reached hers almost hesitantly at first, but as soon as she kissed him back, he lost track of his previous thoughts and reservations. Her fingers tangled in his hair as Damon's trail of kisses went down. The white cotton shirt appeared to be terribly inconvenient so it was discarded to the floor.

Elena's lips found the outer shell of Damon's ear as she unbuttoned his shirt too, it joined the pile in a matter of minutes. It felt undeniably good, having his skin pressed against hers, his warmth directly reaching her. _Clothes were so very overrated._

They kissed and kissed some more, passionately and heatedly. It wasn't like they often had the chance to do so. In those mere seconds: life was perfect. As Damon's tongue traced her lower lip, there was simply no other word in the book that applied.

**xXx**

_"We are the reckless, we are the wild youth,  
>Chasing visions of our futures."<em>

**xXx**

Present day

"I'm sorry," Elena whispered.

"Well, sorry is not always enough," Damon spoke ruefully.

"I never meant to hurt you," Elena managed hoarsely.

"Then you should have _known_ better," Damon replied almost desperately.

"I know… We were never supposed to fall in love. It wasn't right," she mused sadly.

"Nonsense! It was always right! Right until you ruined it!" Damon burst out, raising his voice for the first time that evening.

"Damon, you have no idea what that evening was like for me, how everything came together, tore us apart and ripped us to shreds…" Elena repeated for what felt like the millionth time.

"Then enlighten me. Please do. If you have a version of events that includes you not screwing things up big time, I'm genuinely dying to hear it. The floor's yours!" Damon informed her, irony seeping into his every word.

He had tried. He'd truly tried all night long to keep it together and give her a chance. Yet the memories were all still freshly etched in his brain. He couldn't just dismiss what had happened. And if she thought playing the victim would help her case then she only had herself to blame for his reactions. _She was pushing it._

Elena took a deep breath. "It all started with your father's speech…"

**xXx**

Eleven years ago

The noise in the gala room died down as Senator Salvatore switched on the microphone. Elena was sitting around one of the various round tables, which were clad with expensive linen and decorated with exquisite flowers. Every once in a while, she locked eyes with Damon, who was seated at the table in the middle. Elena was quiet, Damon, on the other hand, was busy convincing Caroline that she could do without her phone for two seconds when his father held his speech.

"You two are cute," Matt whispered next to her, taking in the adorable interaction between his best friend and her boyfriend. Elena kicked him from underneath the table. "Not here," she whispered, suddenly scanning the table to see if anyone had heard.

No one appeared to be listening however, since they were seated among nieces and nephews of the Salvatore's who were busy defeating Pokémon on their Game Boys. Matt had been invited by Caroline too, mostly so Elena would have someone to talk to during dinner. Caroline and Damon were to be seated with their family, it was their father's birthday after all.

"Do you think he'll say anything about the rumors?" Matt asked curiously.

"What? That he's being blackmailed into quitting?" Elena demanded sarcastically.

"I thought Damon said he might quit anyhow," Matt insisted.

"The Senator doesn't want his son in jail, what other reason would he have to quit?" Elena demanded hushed.

"No clue, I'm just repeating what Damon-"

"Ssshhhh, it's starting," Elena shut him up.

"Family means everything," The Senator's words boomed loud and clear over the tables. "That's all that comes to mind when I take a look at the table in front of me," continued Giuseppe.

"Damon Francis Salvatore, and my lovely Caroline Elisabeth, there is no greater joy in the world, than the extraordinary honor of being your father…" Mister Salvatore mused.

"Is he resigning?" Matt questioned softly.

"I have no idea," Elena mumbled confused. She watched Damon from afar. He looked distressed, fidgeting with his tie. Elena tried remembering his words, he had made her promise that she would stand by his side, that she would not go along with the plan of the campaign managers. "_He couldn't lose her_," he'd stressed. "_He'd rather go to trial than go through everything alone," _he'd insisted.

_Going through what alone? Lif_e? Damon had been so cryptic the night before. Still he'd sounded so certain that Elena had decided to do things his way, regardless of the cost. It was Damon's family after all, perhaps Damon did know best.

In that moment, however, as she watched Damon's obvious struggles, she couldn't help but wonder if they were doing the right thing. Giuseppe could not give up his position because of their feelings for each other. Damon knew that too, _didn't he?_

"Therefore I wanted to talk to you all tonight," Giuseppe ripped Elena out of her reverie.

"I feel this might be-, might be." The composed demeanor from the Senator was gone in an instant as he suddenly stared into the spotlight that hung on the ceiling. "I think-, it would-"

_What was going on? _Elena glanced anxiously at Caroline and Damon.

"I feel-, I think, I-"

The sentence was never finished as two men stepped onto the stage and escorted the Senator to a chair behind the curtain. _What was happening_? A single chair scraping over the floor broke the silence, as Damon rose to his feet. He jumped on top of the stage and rushed backstage. Caroline watched his retreating back in confusion.

xXx

The cold evening air felt utterly refreshing, as Elena stepped onto the balcony in her delicate green cocktail dress. Goosebumps instantly rose on her skin, but she paid no attention to them as she stepped forward until her trembling fingers found the railing.

Damon had been nowhere to be seen during the last half hour and it had Elena more worried by the minute. She was on the verge of tears when she suddenly felt a gloved hand touch her bare shoulder.

"Elena?" It was none other than Damon's mother calling her name.

"Mrs. Salvatore!" Elena all but exclaimed. On various occasions she'd pondered the fact that it was strange how she often called the Senator by his first name, while his wife, on the other hand, always insisted on formality.

The older woman eyed the young girl appraisingly and sensed her distress.

"You seem anxious, Dear," Mrs. Salvatore noticed, "But you need not worry, but Damon and my husband are doing fine," she reassured Elena.

"That's a relief," Elena wanted to comment, but halfway her sentence she was interrupted.

"An anxiety attack, that is what the doctor called it, but I think that surprises neither you, nor me. The number of issues my husband has had to deal with over the last few months has been unbearably high. That is actually one of the things I wanted to discuss with you…"

**xXx**

Twenty minutes later, Elena was seated in a richly furnished office on the second from. She admired the ornaments on one of the cupboards as Damon's mother stirred a cup of tea before presenting it to here. "Here you go, my Dear, you seem cold," she spoke.

"Thank you," Elena replied gratefully, taking the cup and bringing it to her lips.

"You love my son, don't you, Elena?" Mrs. Salvatore got straight to the point. "And you mean very much to him, and to my daughter too." The lady in red took a long sip from her chamomile.

"That makes this conversation hard for me, Elena… Because I can see what you do for my children, how you support them and what a great friend you've been. But unfortunately, in lives like ours, those are not the only things that matter."

Elena bit her lips as she felt tears brimming in her eyes. _This conversation is heading nowhere good_, she realized. And the worst part was: Mrs. Salvatore would be right.

"I love to see my son care, love to see the smile you paint upon his lips. Please remember that, Elena, that both my husband and I have truly appreciated your presence in his life. But we can no longer ignore that there are people willing to hurt him very badly. People willing to turn him into the police, people-"

"I never slept with your son!" The words slipped from Elena's tongue before she even realized it. She brought her fingers to her lips as if that could take it back. It could not. She blushed fiercely.

The room turned utterly silent.

"I know..." Mrs. Salvatore spoke after a few seconds. "I know you and my son never engaged in... Well... Improper behavior. Unfortunately, that won't matter to the press. If the right people shed light on his situation my son's picture will be all over tomorrow's newspapers and his reputation will be destructed." She shook her head at the painful thought.

"But Damon does not want for us to split up," Elena tried tentatively. "And he says they can say whatever they like, we will prove them wrong in court when it comes to that," she added.

"Oh Dear..." Damon's mother sent her a good-natured smile, but Elena could not miss the patronizing undercurrent in her words. "I would love to live in a world where the truth made a difference, but do you remember Monica Lewinsk? She was being truthful, and tell me: what did that get her?"

Elena had no reply.

"I know you want to protect Damon. You feel torn, because you don't want to be disloyal. I can see how you watch him anxiously. You're frightened that if you do that right thing he might not see it that way. Am I right?" asked Mrs. Salvatore.

Elena nodded timidly.

"Still, you do not take every aspect into account, Elena. This is not just about my son choosing between loving you or perusing a career. This is about his father too. In the end, I don't think my son will ever forgive himself for forcing his father's hand. He might not see it that way today, but eventually as the truth sets in I believe he will..."

"What would you like me to do?" Elena inquired, her voice fragile and small.

"I want you to talk to the press… and let him go," Mrs. Salvatore informed her ruefully. "It's the only option we have if we want to keep my husband in office at this moment."

"Will I-, will there be consequences?" Elena wondered nervously.

"No. No, my Dear. It is of vital importance to both me and my husband that you do not incriminate yourself. And should your actions backfire then we will be at your service," rang a high pitched voice. "Moreover, we plan on supporting you financially should you need counseling. We're both sincerely sorry that this has to happen in such dreadful manner, except we don't see an alternative. There is no other way out."

The first tears trailed down Elena's cheeks as those words sunk in. It was happening. It was really happening now. An uncomfortable feeling settled beneath her ribcage as she tried to repress dry heaves. She managed to refrain from making any sound, quietly accepting the handkerchief that was handed to her.

"I'm sorry," Mrs. Salvatore uttered uncomfortably. She tenderly placed her hand on the young girl's shoulder as Elena dapped the tears away in silence.

_Sometimes sorry is not enough._

**_xXx_**

_"And if you're still bleeding, you're the lucky ones.  
>'Cause most of our feelings, they are dead and they are gone."<em>

**xXx**

Present day

"Is that the 'big picture' you mentioned in your letter?" demanded Damon. "My Mom takes you aside for a moment and you lose your freaking mind?!"

"Damon-"

"No! You don't get to 'Damon' me! You made me a promise. I was scared as hell and you made a promise. _'Forever and always, 'til kingdom come'_ THAT was how I felt about you and I really thought you felt that way about me too," huffed Damon.

"I did feel that way! You know I loved you, I know you do. But this was never about love, it was about protecting you and your father. It didn't matter what I wanted, I could not be selfish, even if it killed a piece of me..." Elena's voice trailed off.

"Yeah, I think that 'little piece of you' was called _loyalty_, or was it _common decency_. I'm not sure which, you were always better with the drama." He snorted.

"Your Mom said-"

"I don't care a rat's ass about what Mom said. You should have come to ME. You should have talked to ME. You should have trusted ME," barked Damon.

"I tried!" Elena exclaimed, her voice a pitch higher than before. "I tried," she repeated a little softer before adding, "but you refused to understand."

Damon angrily put down the cup of chocolate milk. "That's the best one so far!" he huffed sardonically. "God, you choose your words well!" He wove his arms around in grand gesture as he continued, "I don't understand, huh? I was three years older and wiser at the time and it was actually MY family and MY future on the line. Yet you have the audacity to drop by, calmly bringing me chocolate chip cookies and announcing that I was the one who refused to understand? You have got to be kidding me!"

"You weren't there, Damon! When that reporter came to me asking all these different questions, you were nowhere to be found and I was scared out of my mind! I was fifteen, remember? I was fifteen and I loved you and that woman was out for blood. She did not care for the truth, much less your reputation. She wanted to take your father down and she would have dragged you along if she'd had the chance," Elena brought in.

"So what? So you told her some lame ass story about dating me to hurt your father while you were secretly in love with someone else? Tell me, Elena, at what point did that seem like a wise option?" Damon demanded.

"I DID NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO, Damon. She was suddenly there! She had it out for you, trying to trick me. I panicked! No one had properly informed me about the actual story I was supposed to tell and I was so angry with my father that when one question led to another, I suddenly..."

"- suddenly crushed your lips to Matt's to prove a point or what?" Damon demanded.

"You weren't there!"

"I was!"

xXx

Eleven years ago

"Look, Elena... You're name's Elena, right? There is no need to feel ashamed. It was not your fault. You did not ask for this," a sugary voice insisted. The woman with the blond extensions and the fake nails couldn't possibly sound more in-genuine, though apparently she wasn't aware of that herself.

"There are people who could help you. I could help you. If you'd be honest with me, I could take you to the police station right now. _Let me help you_."

Had Elena been in a lighter mood, she would have given the bitch some advice on her bad acting. But it was not the time or the place for that. The blonde was conniving and cunning, Elena had to mind her words.

"He's a public figure. That makes it hard for you. I get that. But everyone deserves justice and so do you. _You matter_, Elena," the reporter spoke overly emotional, barely refraining from holding her hand over her heart as she spoke. _Except: did she even have a heart there? And was she mistaking Elena for a four-year-old?_

Elena was onto the plan. The woman was to come across as concerned, sprouting random advice and being her friend, right until Elena would trust her and insist that whatever she had done with Damon had been completely consensual. That's what the reporter would insist on. She'd nod reassuringly and she'd let her chat about their love, their relationship. Then she would turn it all into a wonderful article which would alert the authorities. _Elena wasn't having it._

Since feigning friendship was the theme, however, she decided that two could play at that game.

"Can I tell you something?" Elena managed slightly nervous. She kept her voice low so no one could overhear them.

"Of course," the reporter replied eagerly.

"Could we go some place more private..."

**xXx**

Half an hour later, the two women were sitting by the lake. Elena blurted out her story rather hushed, emotional reactions and feigned involuntary shivers right on cue.

"Why did your father cheat on your mother?" the reporter inquired, surprising Elena with her interest in the matter.

"I don't know, all I know was that he always considered Damon a horrible influence. And I knew Damon cared enough about me not to want to hurt my feelings. He wouldn't instantly put me in place if I were to show interest because I'm his sister's only real friend and he loves her. It may look like he's a player sometimes, but in the end he has a golden heart, he'd do anything for Caroline, even date one of her friends..." Elena mused, looking the reporter straight in the eyes.

"I understand," the blonde replied, only sounded halfway convinced, "but why would you suddenly stop? You father hasn't gone back to your mother yet, has he?" the woman questioned. _What was it to her?_

Once again, Elena couldn't place the peculiar interest the reporter had in her family dynamic, but she replied without blinking, "Damon knows I played him and that I fell in love with someone else."

"Is that so? Because I saw how the two of you interacted before lunch. He didn't appear to be upset."

"He only found out just now, next time you see us _'interact'_ you'll understand," Elena replied pained.

It was a lie. Something that was not true yet. But it would have to be soon. There was no longer an alternative. And '_sorry'_, would not be enough.

**xXx**_  
>We're setting fire to our insides… for fun.<br>Collecting pictures from the flood that wrecked our home._

**xXx**

Present day

"I was there, Elena. I was standing exactly two yards away from you when you looked me in the eyes before your lips touched another man's. You devoured him right in front of me. How's that for loyalty?" Damon questioned. His tone was bitter, though his volume had gone down significantly. This was no longer rage, this was utter disappointment.

Tears sprang into Elena's eyes, she had no words to excuse herself.

"You were _never_ going to let me go," she murmured softly, "You weren't going to give in."

"Well, at least you were right about something..." Damon whispered. He turned his back on her and took in the wall to his left. He couldn't look at her in that moment.

"They were going to destroy your father's career. They'd force a media scandal so he would have no choice but to give up his office. And on top of that: they were going to blame _you_ for statutory rape, Damon. The papers would have loved it. And let's not forget that 2004 was the exact year you were applying for colleges. It was either us, or your future. I don't think you ever fathomed what that truly meant... How much you and your family would have lost. So I did what I had to do, I had to force you to let me go. I had to do the one thing you would define as unforgivable…"

Damon snorted. "Yeay me. Yeay my reputation. Yeay loneliness. Thank you, it was awesome. Did it ever cross your mind that we might have had to talk about it first. Perhaps we should have discussed the matter at hand and argue a little before you unilaterally decided to blow thing up…?"

"I did what I had to do!" Elena was crying now. "I hated it! I hated every single part of it! And I hated myself! I hated hurting your feelings, I felt like I had died when we broke up. But I thought I was protecting you, I saw no other option…"

"STICKING YOUR TONGUE DOWN SOMEONE ELSES THROAT IS NOT HOW YOU PROTECT THE ONE YOU LOVE!" Damon roared loudly. He couldn't help the words as they slipped from his lips. He just needed her to hear it, once. That part was unforgivable. There was no way around it.

"I'm-, s-, sorry," Elena managed between sobs.

"Well, sorry won't cut it this time," Damon informed her coldly.

**xXx**

Neither of them uttered a single word for the longest time. Elena wasn't even fidgeting, she did not dare to move the first few seconds.

"Had there been any other way I could have gotten you to let me go?" she whispered brokenly, plucking fruitlessly at the red IKEA blanket.

"No." Damon replied slightly calmer than before.

"You would have lost everything…" Elena argued barely above a whisper.

"I did lose everything. Because the only thing I couldn't bear to lose at the time was you…" Damon spoke barely above a whisper. He allowed his eyes to find hers and stared deeply into them. It was only now that Elena recognized a deeper pain. One she hadn't noticed before. _Damon was not just being cheesy, there was much more to his heartbreak._

"Romance, huh? That's what you thought, isn't it? That I had a crush on you and I'd get over it?"

Elena didn't dare to reply.

"You thought wrong." Damon's tone turned bitter. "My father didn't just have an anxiety attack that evening, he had cancer. We all thought he was going to die. That career of his, you were so worried about, mattered very little at that point and I… I never needed Harvard or Yale, or an impeccable reputation for that matter. I was falling apart at the seams, Elena, and all I needed… was you."

As that new piece of information dawned on Elena, her eyes grew wide in utter horror. "No!" She shook her head and blinked, trying to rid her mind of unwelcoming thoughts. _It made no difference_.

"You should have told me," she managed brokenly. "Had I known… God I longed for you, Damon. I cried for you, I needed you. It broke me to tear myself away from you, to tear us apart and had I known…" she couldn't finished her sentence.

Slowly, Elena moved her head between her hands. Her elbows were supported by her knees. She imploded. Off all the words in the dictionary, there was not one that fit the scene any better. As the truth sank in and tears fell soundlessly from her eyes, Elena _imploded_.

That's when Damon first gathered that his calculations had been wrong. Elena was never perfect, had never been flawless, but she had never been the villain he'd made her out to be either. The broken girl on his sofa had never acted with the intention of making him come undone. He had been collateral damage, perhaps she'd been too.

It was a shame, such a damn shame, that 'sorry' could not heal either of their wounds.

**xXx**

Damon slowly rose to his feet and Elena eyed him in full-blown panic. _He couldn't kick her out like that, she was frightened she wouldn't survive._ Except, she'd done the exact same thing to him, let him slip and fall in one of his most vulnerable moments.

"Please," Elena whispered with big, pleading eyes.

"I need a minute," Damon excused himself.

"Don't l-"

"A moment, Elena. You walked away for ten f**king years. All I'm asking for is one moment!" Damon raised his voice as he spoke and she cringed.

_A moment._

**xXx**

_"Well I've lost it all, I'm just a silhouette, a lifeless face that you'll soon forget,  
>My eyes are damp from the words you left, ringing in my head, when you broke my chest."<em>

**xXx**

_Maybe this is what a nervous breakdown feels like_, Damon thought as he sauntered into his bedroom, blindly. He didn't bother to switch on the lights before dropping onto the mattress.

"Aw!" Sophie cried.

"Soph?!"

"Daddy," the little girl sobbed, wrapping his arms around her father. Damon searched for the light switch and as soon as the room was no longer veiled in darkness, he took in his daughter's tear-stained face.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Damon inquired softly, kissing the top of her head as he took her into his lap.

"You were yelling so loudly. And you were fighting. And Elena… she was crying," Sophie blurted out distressed.

"Oh Sweetheart." Damon pulled her even closer, arms protectively around her slim body.

"Elena and I, we had a fight a very long time ago. We never really talked about it, that's why you heard me raise my voice. She made me sad back then," Damon explained.

"Then why did you let her visit?" Sophie asked confused.

"I don't know, Soph. Because we had a good day today? Because she was my friend once? Because some days I hope we can go back? Because of I thought she could be your friend…" Damon couldn't even properly phrase an answer for himself, let alone for his little girl.

"You know what? I'm going to tell Elena goodnight and come back to bed. You don't have to be alone tonight," Damon promised, knowing his little girl wouldn't be able to fall asleep in her own room after overhearing the argument.

"No!" Sophie protested.

"No?" Damon wondered.

"She's never going to come back again, Daddy. She can't leave!" Sophie told him panicked.

Damon glanced at the bottom drawer of his bedside table where he'd locked her letter up. He was torn. He couldn't ignore the fact that his daughter might be right.

_Forever and always 'til kingdom come?  
>or was this where the journey finally ended?<em>

**xXx**

_"And if you're in love, then you are the lucky one,  
>because most of us are bitter over someone."<em>

**_xXx_**

Who's to blame when a relationship falls apart? Who's responsible for cleaning up the mess?  
>And above all: where is that point where you stop trying? There are no right or wrong answers, no magical handbook that tells us what to do. 'We should do what's best for us. We should try and be happy.' Except none of us posses a crystal ball and love is not an exact science. There is no simply calculation for us to make.<p>

Sorry is often not enough.  
>And every story has two sides.<br>Sometimes love means setting one free.  
>Sometimes it doesn't.<p>

Complicated. No?  
>We should let it go already.<br>Still we yearn for it. Crave it. Need it. Because in the end those complications appear to be worth it. And every time we get swept off our feet, we promise ourselves not to let it slip through our fingers. Because if you're in love… _then you are the lucky one. _

**xXx**

"Setting fire to our insides for fun."

**xXx**

**This flashback chapter was inspired by 'Youth' from Daughter.  
>I'm curious: how do you feel about our lovely couple now.<br>Nine chapters. All info's in, what would be your verdict?  
>Thought regarding chapter ten?<strong>

**Night-night :)**


	10. Cross that line

**At home: "Sweetheart, is that your bachelor thesis?"  
>"Maybe."<br>"**_Dressed in nothing but the loose black'_…**Is that your accession of the Ukraine crisis? :P"  
>"Mooooom, it's Sunday. I'm supposed to update…"<br>"And why would that be?" *Click reviews* - *show reviews***

**"Hmm. That's great and all, but don't your reviewers have exams too?"  
>"Worse. They run households. AND find time to read my stories. HINT."<br>"Fine. If it's worth such comments: what would you like me to read Sweetie?"  
>"ANY STORY… Or wait: skip I Will Not Obey… AND No Strings Attached. Definitely. Well, just read Scars… but skip everything in italics … Pfff, read the Seventh Commandment. Oh wait, you can't read that first chapter either. Read my current story except for- You know what? Why don't you continue knitting, I don't need you on my Fanfic account, it's fine like this Mommy. Love you."<strong>

**_xXx_**

_All along  
>I thought something would go wrong<br>Didn't you?_

**_xXx_**

According to Machiavelli, everyone should look out for themselves. Or rather, everyone does look out for themselves. One should not count on others. Nor should one trust that their behavior will ever be anything but a mere translation of what they deem to be 'their best interest'. Strength is ratio, emotions only cloud our judgment at best. How does that translate into our day-to-day lives? How does one act rationally?

We should not allow ourselves to be manipulated. It's better to set our boundaries and carve them out in stone. We should take some emotional distance from others, life is all about drawing lines in the sand and trying to ensure that no one crosses them. We should have others fear us, rather than love us. THAT is how we stay protected.

**xXx**

_"She's never going to come back again, Daddy. She can't leave!" Sophie told him panicked._

_Damon glanced at the bottom drawer of his bedside table where he'd locked her letter up. He was torn. He couldn't ignore the fact that his daughter might be right._

"Then what would you like me to do, Sweetheart? I can't just go down there and forget everything that's happened. She did a bad thing, I cannot change that," Damon stated.

"Did she say sorry, Daddy?" Sophie inquired.

"What?" Damon asked confused.

"Elena, when she did that bad thing. Did she apologize?" Sophie wondered out loud.

"She did, I guess," Damon admitted.

"Well, then the fight is over, right?" Sophie concluded. "Someone does a bad thing, then they apologize and then it's over," she summed up.

"It's not that easy Sweetie," Damon stressed.

"How? How do you know when it's over then?" Sophie questioned.

Damon's five-year-old had a point. When an apology was not the line to be crossed from fight to appeasement, then what was? Where did an argument stop and when would it ever be '_enough'_?

"I have no clue," Damon mused ruefully. "She apologized and I think I can forgive her, but it's still hard to just forget about everything. Do you understand that?"

Sophie, who had been nodding during the first part of her father's explanation, comically altered the direction of her head's back-and-forth movement and was shaking it from left to right now.

Damon brought his right hand up to his forehead, wrinkling the skin there and thinking of a different way to phrase the issue. "Let's see," he started. "Take your Mom for instance…" Sophie watched him wearily, "Your Mom disappeared on us, out of the blue. You were angry about that for a little while and I think we're both still unhappy about it. It was a bad thing for her to do, can we agree on that?" Sophie nodded.

"But if your Mom would suddenly turn up again and apologize to us, I think you would forgive her just because you've missed her so much and you love her. Wouldn't you?" Damon inquired.

"Of course!" Sophie replied.

"In the end however, even if you'd still love Mom and be happy that she's back, I don't think you would forget about the time she left," Damon stated softly. "Before she left, you were never afraid about Mom going away, but if she returns a part of you will always worry about her leaving when she drops you off at school."

Damon wrapped his arms around his little girl and turned her around in his lap so she was facing him. Sophie stared at him with wide and innocent eyes. "We can _forgive_ the people we love, but it takes a long time to _forget_ certain things. Elena left me alone when I was younger and it's hard not to be afraid that she'll leave again," Damon concluded wistfully.

Sophie placed her small fingers on top of Damon's. Despite her young age she was aware that her father was struggling. Little did she know the significance of their shared moment, as Damon uttered the words he hadn't ever admitted out loud before.

"You _have_ Elena," Sophie suddenly interrupted his train of thoughts.

Damon watched her confused, still halfway into his reverie.

"_You have Elena_," Sophie repeated. "We don't have Mom, but Elena is downstairs," Sophie insisted, eyes burning into Damon's.

"Yes. So?" Damon questioned.

"_That's the goal, Daddy_," Sophie rolled her eyes, a nice trait she'd picked up from her dearly beloved father. "The goal is that they come back! They leave and we are sad and we hope that they come back. Elena _is_ back," Sophie revealed. "You should be happy!"

A humorless chuckle escaped Damon's lips at his daughter's logic. "She can leave again, you know?" Damon insisted.

"Then it's stupid that you're upstairs and not downstairs!" Sophie replied.

"It's not that simple, Sweetheart," Damon spoke, his tone severely patronizing.

"But when we get Mom back, we are not going to spend time just the two of us upstairs until she leaves again, are we?" Sophie blurred out.

It was hard not to notice how Sophie still used 'when' instead of 'if'.

"You're too young to-"

"No Daddy. It's simple. When Elena is here you should be with her before she leaves again. Because when she leaves, then she is gone. And then you don't know when she's going to come back."

Damon watched his little girl as she explained her point of view with vigor. Life was so different seen through her eyes. She was passionate in convincing him of those solutions that were nothing more than perfectly evident to her. Naturally she didn't understand the complexity of all the issues at hand, but could there be some wisdom in the simplified perspective she offered?

Sophie hopped of her father's lap and began pushing him off the bed. "Go on!" she urged. "Go be with Elena!"

"Sweetheart-" Damon started to protest.

"No! Go downstairs, Daddy. I'll be good and go to sleep," she promised.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Damon insisted.

"Hmm." Sophie, who had quickly squeezed her limber body underneath the covers, nodded furiously.

Damon rolled his eyes at her before kissing the top of her head. "I'll be checking on you in half an hour Miss, and you'd better be asleep by then. Understood?" He did a feeble attempt of coming across as '_strict'_, but his daughter's giggle proved that the attempt had been in vain. _Happy parenting_.

"Night-night," Damon whispered before walking out of the room.

"Good luck," Sophie whispered back.

**xXx**

"Elena?" Damon called out as he rounded the corner walking into the living room. He didn't spot her on the sofa, so he moved toward the kitchen, swinging the door open in one swift motion. She wasn't there. Damon frowned.

On second thought he opened the door that lead to the hallway. There was no light coming from under the door to the restroom either. _Where could she be? Had she left?_

Anxiously, Damon looked for her coat in the hallway closet. When he didn't spot the long scarlet petticoat at first sight, he rapidly went through all the coat hangers, accidentally dropping some to the floor as he went. Her coat was gone_. She was gone_.

Damn! Damon slammed the closet shut in frustration. _Just his luck_. _He hadn't been upstairs for that long, had he? Why would she pack up and leave without a word? What was the last thing he had said to her again?_

Sauntering into the kitchen, Damon went straight for the liquor cabinet. _A single shot, no more_. That was what drinking had been reduced to ever since he became a single parent. Responsibility was one of the traits he had picked up along the way. Slightly disgruntled he filled his tumbled with water from the tap, before making his way to the sofa.

Whoosh. The cushions of the sofa deflated as a vast amount of air was pushed out all at once under Damon's weight. He closed his eyes for a lingering moment as his current situation dawned on him.

After three minutes he straightened himself again, leaning forward to clean the side table between the sofa's. As he wiped the crumbs of cookies into a bowl with his bare hands, his eyes found a piece of paper that hadn't been there before. _A letter_.

Damon cleaned his right hand using his jeans, before he grabbed hold of the letter. Nervously and greedily, his eyes slid over the words Elena had written down. _There was no point in waiting or savoring it. He had to know._

"_Dear Damon_," was written in neat and elegant handwriting.

_"First of all, I'm sorry for coming over tonight. It was a miscalculation on my part, I never meant to make you uncomfortable. In fact, I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for every single one of my actions that caused you pain. That was never my intention. Even though it doesn't change anything, I want you to know that I have always loved you._

_I could tell you one more time that I only did what I did to protect you, but I'm choosing not to do that. You know my side of the story and you know me. You're more than intelligent enough to understand what happened ten years ago and it's your choice and only your choice to decide what to do with that information._

_Perhaps I was stupid to act the way I did and maybe it was wrong to come work for you or to visit you tonight, but you of all people should know that everyone has their flaws. It's not our choice to be imperfect, but we cannot help it either. Our flaws are a part of who we are, there is no changing that. Which leads me to a question: during the time when you still felt something for me, who did you love? Did you love the girl you were dating or the image you constructed of her inside of your mind?_

_I was never perfect, Damon. I have always disappointed you. Consistently. Nonetheless a part of me believes that it's only lately that you've started seeing that your ideal version of me and the person I actually am, never matched. I was never your 'Princess' to begin with. I was always just Elena. _

_I'd like for you to know that I loved you just the way you were. I never needed you to be anything more than yourself and watching you take care of Sophie tonight has only confirmed that to me tonight. _

_Many things have happened, we have both been in pain and we have both been hurt. But lately I was not the only one inflicting pain, and perhaps there's something to be said for the fact that I never did so with the single purpose of making your heart ache. _You_ are not perfect either, but that has always been irrelevant to me._

_We have tried however. Tried and failed. So this is me letting you go, finally. Consider this my final resignation from the firm, I won't be bothering you anymore. Nevertheless, I wish you the very best in life and I hope you'll find happiness. _

_Love,  
>Elena"<em>

Damon blinked in confusion. _The timing was all wrong_. _Hadn't he just decided to take the moments he had with her and relish in them, regardless of the consequences_. The irony of the situation would be hilarious if it weren't so bitter.

So, that was it. Elena was gone already, before he had even figured out how to be around her again. Perhaps his daughter had been right after all, _he should have taken the opportunity back when it had been presented to him_.

**xXx**

Damon re-entered his bedroom making as little noise as possible in an attempt not to wake Sophie. He held the door, keeping it from slamming closed and carefully guiding it into his frame.

Without a sound he changed clothes in the bathroom, leaving the light switched off. After brushing his teeth with little water he gradually allowed his weight to sink into the mattress. Sophie hadn't stirred. Great.

Damon closed his eyes and tried to slip into a dreamlike state, he was almost there when he felt the covers move. When he opened his eyes, his little girl was leaning on her elbows, eyes fixed on him. "And…?" she inquired wide awake. "How did it go?"

_So much for exaggerated efforts not to wake her._

"We're fine, Soph. It's time to go to sleep now," Damon tried to shut her up.

"Did you two hug?" Sophie wondered out loud. "Did you kiss her cheek before she left?"

A sigh came from deep within Damon. "She had already left when I arrived downstairs. But it's better this way, Sophie. We're going to be just fine on our own," Damon promised, arguably in an attempt to convince himself. He tucked his little girl in and closed his eyes again.

Sophie wasn't having it though. "No!" she protested firmly. "You should go after her," she decided.

Damon shook his head. "Life is not a romantic comedy, Sweetheart. Elena's gone and we're still here. Like I said before: perhaps it's better this way."

"No. You have to go and find her, like they do it in the movies!" Sophie insisted, obviously not realizing that romantic comedies were in fact movies.

Damon rolled his eyes. "Life is not a movie."

"It would be more fun if it was." Sophie crossed her arms over her chest and eyed him in defiance.

"Well, we can't always get what we want…" Damon drew.

"Nope. But today we can," Sophie stressed. "Ric knows where Elena lives."

Damon didn't reply and Sophie leaned over him to grab his phone.

"Sophie, what are you doing?" Damon demanded, his tone carrying a warning undercurrent.

"I'm calling Uncle Ric. It's stupid not to ask him," Sophie explained.

"I already know where Elena lives, but it doesn't matter. I can't take you there with me and I'm definitely not leaving you home alone," Damon protested.

"Then we call Uncle Ric and ask him if I can sleep over. I can explain it to him if you don't want to do it yourself…" Sophie suggested.

Damon snickered at the seriousness in his daughter's expression. If the situation weren't so complex it would be hilarious: a five-year-old running her father's dating life. _Did Sophie even realize that her father couldn't date both Elena and her mother? Actions had consequences and the path she was sending him on didn't particularly favor Katherine._

**xXx**

Over an hour later, Damon found himself driving through the night. He's wasn't even sure yet if he would eventually wind up on Elena's doorstep, but apparently both his best friend and his daughter considered it worth a shot.

The red numbers on his dashboard indicated that it was twelve forty-two in the morning, far too late. Why did everyone deem this the best approach?

Ric had been over the moon as soon as he'd received the phone call. According to him it was 'about time' for a grant gesture. Still, Damon didn't feel up for any kind of grand gesture. One the other hand he also realized that his halfway-in, halfway-out approach was selling him short.

There was no such thing as 'half-trusting' someone, or 'half-bonding', giving half of yourself but not all. One could not be halfway loyal or halfway faithful, there was either a genuine attempt at friendship or none at all.

Furthermore, Damon was tired. He was tired of thinking and considering all options, tired of being afraid. _What was the worst thing that could happen, that she'd leave him again?_ It would shake him and it would burn, but then again: what was the point? _If she left that particular moment, wouldn't he be hurting anyhow?_ If Damon was being truly honest with himself, he had to admit that she had regained that power over him the moment she had returned.

From the very second she had entered his life again it had been self-evident: it would string if she'd leave again, regardless of his attachment to her. What was the point in protecting himself in order to keep from ever missing her again when he'd already crossed that line?

He currently had all of the risks and none opportunities. It was time to make a change.

**xXx**

_For you I'd break these walls and choose to fall  
>I'm gonna cross that line. For you. Tonight.<em>

**xXx**

_Katherine_. Her face briefly flashed in front of Damon's eyes as he neared Elena's apartment. Sooner then he'd expected, there was a choice to be made. Katherine or Elena. So alike and yet so different in more ways than one.

If he'd allow himself to let Elena in again, that would signify locking Katherine out. There was no tip-toeing around the fact that there was no room for both women in his life. It was a big decision, one he'd almost made unconsciously, in the heat of the moment. He shouldn't. He knew he shouldn't.

_Sophie's mother or his first love_. Suddenly there wasn't much time to ponder, six more blocks and he'd be arriving at the Gilbert Apartment. He pulled over for a moment, parking his car in front of an abandoned park.

_Christ_. Suddenly it dawned on him._  
>This was one hell of a decision<em>. His actions tonight would change _everything_ and turn his daughter's world upside down.

In his current life, there was no longer any room for one-night stands. If he'd give himself to Elena tonight, then things were bound to change and Katherine would no longer have a family to come home to. _Isn't it funny how one single action in one single night can set things in motion for years to come?_

Ironic, how the current choice was one between two women who had once left him.  
>Ironic how Damon had once chosen for Katherine, in the absence of Elena, and was about to do the exact opposite now.<p>

Was he betraying Katherine if he knocked on Elena's door. Did it still count as cheating if she was the one who left him? Was is morally despicable is he dared to dream about a future with Elena?

"_To dream about a future with Elena_?" REWIND. _The same Elena he'd left alone two and a half hours earlier_. It's so peculiar how life changes on us in the blink of an eye. _How did he end up by the side of the road again?_

Katherine or Elena.  
><em>Elena or Katherine<em>.

The love of his life, or Sophie's mom. _Sophie's mom, was there even a chance of competing a notion like that? Six years of marriage versus a fleeting teenage fling._

_It was never meant to be fleeting,_ Damon caught himself thinking. If it hadn't been for his mother's controlling nature and manipulations, Elena had never let him go_._ Damon knew that all too well.

What if things had been different, what if his mother had never spoken to Elena? _Could it be that they would have never broken up in the first place. Perhaps they'd be married and she'd been the one to wrap her arms around his torso when he came home at night. Perhaps she could have been there for him and he for her, a healthy marriage would have definitely been in the cards. Perhaps she could have been Sophie's mother and Sophie would have had two parents who'd do anything for her. Perhaps._

_STOP IT_, Damon commanded his brain.

It had to stop. He was not allowed to think that way and he would not. Sophie would not be Sophie without Katherine being her biological mother and Damon loved his little girl with whole his heart. Furthermore, Sophie was Katherine's. Maybe that was a sign that he needed to choose Katherine.

Or maybe it didn't matter and Elena would be a much better parent to his little girl than his wife could ever be. Or perhaps not dating Elena would be taking an opportunity to be cared for away from his daughter. Or maybe _that_ was simply the most convenient way of framing the situation…

Damon was at a loss. He banged his head hard against the back of his seat. His mind had stopped making sense. But this was not the right time. He _had to_ choose, tonight wasn't optional. Driving back would have its consequence and so would moving forward. In very few seconds he'd be deciding the course of his immediate future.

_Think_, he urged himself. _Now or never. Now or… never._

**xXx**

Damon made his way to the right floor in the apartment building taking two steps at a time. It was late, very late and he saw absolutely no reason to arrive any later then strictly necessary. He was slightly high on adrenaline from sneaking inside the building unnoticed, the badge protection system appeared to be out of service, not that he was complaining.

Elena.

Elena had been the answer all along.

As his father had once told him: "When your head cannot solve the issue, perhaps it's a matter more suited for your heart." It was. And contrary to his head, his heart was not conflicted at all.

_What is she wasn't home? What if he was too late? What if Elena had made up her mind and he'd be walking into a wall of rejection. _

That was not an option. It was something his heart could not bear in that moment. If she'd turn him down, a part of him would break. Would she?

_There was only one way to find out…_

Damon knocked on the door to his left. Once. Twice. A third time. There was no response and the doorknob didn't budge. He knocked harder.

"Coming," Elena murmured half-dazed from the other side of the door.

When she appeared in the doorframe about a minute later, she was dressed in nothing but a scarlet robe. Damon had been looking down however, so the first thing he noticed were her bare feet. She appeared to have come right out of bed. _Focus_! Damon tried to keep his eyes from raking over her body. It was hard, but he managed. So without any lingering stares he caught her eyes.

"D-, Damon," Elena uttered surprised. She sounded tired, her voice was small.

It was only now that Damon noticed the redness around her eyes. She hadn't been sleeping, she'd been crying. Many tears. His tears. It made him want to comfort her, to reach out to her. But he couldn't. Not just because of the fact that she was barely clad and it would sent the wrong signal regarding his intentions, but also because it would be too abrupt, too unexpected. He wouldn't be surprised if his mood swings were making Elena's head spin by now. He couldn't even explain what was happening himself, it was as much of an emotional rollercoaster for him as it was for her.

As Elena tried to make sense of the situation, various emotions flashed by in the blink of an eye. There was confusion, disbelief and a fleeting moment of relief, quickly followed by fear. Damon understood. She had to be wondering what he was doing on her doorstep. God, he hoped that she'd gather that he wasn't there for a one-night stand.

Damon tried to convey the things he was feeling, but he lacked the words to do so. In the end all he did was watch her with the most comforting expression he could muster, while she did the exact same thing.

The tension in the hallway was almost tangible, adrenaline was coursing their both of their bodies. As Elena made no move to step aside or slam the door shut, Damon took a small step forward and closed the distance. They were close, and even closer, and as Elena closed her eyes, Damon tilted his forehead so it touched hers. Gently.

They simply stood like that for a while, winding down, merely touching. The tension rolled off Elena's body in waves, causing her to shiver. She had no clue what was happening and contrary to Damon, she did not instantly relax. There was no passionate make-out session right that second, neither did they instantly slip into a joyful bliss. Real life was not like the movies. After all that happened it took Elena a few seconds for her to overcome her disbelief. _How could the moment possibly be real?_

"Shhhh," Damon soothed her, rubbing his hands up and down her arms.

That was the moment it truly dawned on Elena.  
>Somehow they had crossed the line.<p>

**xXx**

According to Machiavelli, everyone should look out for themselves. We should have others fear us, rather than love us. THAT is how we stay protected.

Have you ever heard of Machiavelli's satisfying relationships? About the otherworldly bond between him and his Love that gave meaning to his life in his darkest hour? No? Well, neither have I.

Rationalism isn't everything.

**_xXx_**

_The sun is down  
>I thought you'd be gone by now<br>Didn't you?_

**xXx**

**200 (!) reviews before posting my tenth chapter. I never had a story be this appreciated before. *beaming* The beaming was sooo welcome btw: papers, deadline, exams… AGGGGRRR! Horror! My best friend just corrected one of said papers and changed 'Obama cums' into 'Obama comes', the perfect example of my superior spelling skills on 3 hours of sleep :P **(Sorry Jade, I'm assuming spelling here sucked :/)

**Night-Night!**  
>P.S: Joke about the knitting, my Mom rocks and I love her. All the way to the moon - and back ;) .<p> 


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